Tenebrae Aeternae
by Feilan
Summary: At the night of his sixteenth birthday, he is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites, why should he bother to save their asses? It's time to be Dark. Powerful Harry. HP/DM, Warning: Harry will be out of character for a while.
1. ϟ Nosce te Ipsum ϟ

**Full summary:** At the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites and a new face, Harry decides to flee, believing that people count on chance to save them too much, it's time for them to wake up to reality and the fact that their _saviour_ might not necessarily choose to save them after all, it is time to be _Dark_. With Harry Potter gone, their world is thrown into a frenzy of panic and uproar, just the kind of distraction needed for a new unknown pureblood, Raziel, to make his appearance without bringing too much attention to himself. Slightly Dark!Harry. Eventually Powerful!Harry. HP/DM**  
Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue.**  
Rating**: **T** for now but **M** later.**  
Pairing**: Both slash and Het. Main will eventually be _Draco/Harry_ but for those against slash you can consider this a Harry/no one fic, coz I'll be placing slash warnings for each chapter_ so readers can avoid direct slash._

_Chapter Title means - Know thyself.  
_

* * *

**Tenebrae Aeternae  
Chapter One  
- _Nosce te Ipsum _-  
**

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

It was unreal to him still. Everything was surreal and shattering. All that had happened was too sudden, too unfair. It was like one of those bad dreams where you knew it was a dream but you couldn't wake up no matter how much you wished to, all you could do was letting things pass while waiting patiently, and currently, Harry James Potter was waiting for exactly that.

For an escape - a loophole out of the mess – a clean cut that could that could separate him from all this ill fortune his life seemed to be centred around. Too bad life was never that easy. If only he could just wake up from it all to realize that Sirius was alive and that there was no Prophecy, that's all he would ask for to be happy.

Was that too much to ask. Was he selfish? Selfish for wanting to be the one to lead his own life, the way _he_ wanted to.

His heart sank once again as he watched Hedwig's big, yellowish, round eyes looking back at him in silent understanding. For a moment the thought that Hedwig might have been able to read his soul through those sharp eyes, didn't seem so absurd anymore.

But then again, was he even capable of hiding his emotions at all? His godfather was gone, Dumbledore had indirectly lied to him and finally been cornered into telling him about the prophecy – if not for the encounter with Voldemort in the department of mysteries, would Dumbledore have told him still? _Probably not_ - the wizarding world had finally come to realize that he wasn't a big fat liar and that Voldemort really had returned…. and now here he was, once again under the roof of Dursley's hiding away under heavy wards that should supposedly keep him safe, while waiting for the end of the holidays where the Order would come to pick him up for his sixth year at Hogwarts.

Bloody brilliant. He didn't want to see any of them at the moment, not while he was grieving, not while he was feeling vulnerable. Of course that was all a lie, he wanted nothing more than to just leave the place, but he also knew that no matter where he would go he would still be '_Harry Potter'_.

He unfolded the Prophet sighing as he found yet another article including his name on the front page.

**HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?**

Maybe it might have been better to be hated, ignored and seen as insane kid, than getting all this attention. All the Prophet wrote about these days was about him. Worst was all the random letters from people reading the Prophet. The latest letter had been from a lady who asked if he could '_finish off_' Voldemort off before Christmas, if he really was the chosen one. He laughed bitterly to himself; people really thought it was his duty to just follow whatever fate or destiny tried to push on him?

They were all a bunch of hypocrites. One year ago he'd been humiliated, expelled from Hogwarts, attended a hearing to prove that he wasn't just using the patronus spell to show off to his _muggle_ cousin who as it was really already knew he was a wizard, not to mention having to live with yet another scar on his hand saying 'I must not tell lies' or having the whole Griffindor house against him with the exception of Ron and Hermione and those with parents in the Order.

_If only he wasn't…_

And now? He was expected to save them all… and before Christmas no less. Ridiculous. Didn't the stupid woman know that war took years? And if she were in his shoes, could she really just say, '_Sure, he'll be dead within 4 months, no big deal_.'

He felt his hands tremble. Not in fear, never in fear, only silent anger as he watched the deep blue, starry sky, of the world outside.

_The chosen one… The boy who lived…_

A world that had hated him and treated him as a disturbed teenager who would do anything to stay in the spotlight, but now, suddenly when they were forced to realize that all he'd done was telling the truth, they turned 180 degrees and had begun to push all responsibility on him, a child, not even 16 yet. Although he would be tomorrow.

So now he was the 'chosen one' and he would have to take the blame for the people he couldn't save? He could just imagine that happening. All they wanted was a figure head, in this case _him_, who they could depend on while they could lean back, feel safe and just continue their lives undisturbed by the war, and perhaps after a number of casualties they'd start questioning; "Where is the Chosen One?"

Falling back against the wall, Harry let himself sink to the floor in the middle of his mess.

Since when had he become such a pessimist? The pressure was definitely getting to him, he didn't like being alone at a time like this, and all he heard from his friends were smaller details, of course no news about the Order and Dumbledore. He was once again left out in the rain alone, like so many times before. He really wished he could use magic, but with no adult wizard here, not to mention it was a neighbourhood full of muggles, and that meant that he would only end up being questioned in the Ministry again.

Hermione's parents had gone travelling and she had arranged it so she could stay at the burrow with the Weasley's. Ron only wrote a bit about what was going on and such, and then of course complaining about Hermione. She had brought enough books to fill up a mini library, and had forced Ron to study, in his holidays, much to Ron's distress.

Books, parchments and feathers and strange objects were covering almost the whole floor, but in a strange way, to him it was 'organized mess'.

He grabbed the nearest book and picked it up. '_Advanced Latin_' rested coolly in his lap. Hermione would have looked at him disbelievingly if he'd bothered to tell her that he hard started to teach himself a few things.

_If only he wasn't Harry Potter._

Over the summer he'd been reading various books which he'd ordered under a false name, and had soon found out the joys of having a secret that was purely his own, he felt like he was at least making some progress. He wanted to be different, to be someone else, that way he could be ordinary, lead a normal life, and remain invisible among the crowd.

A few minutes later he found himself lying on his, dressed in his pyjamas and tucked comfortably under his blanket, and staring at the digital clock, that glowed at him with big red numbers, it was 23.58 or maybe it was already midnight. If only he wasn't 'Harry Potter' was the last though before he drifted off.

Odd as it would seem, he wasn't actually falling asleep.

He was just _waking_ up.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

It was a silent evening for Arabella Doreen Figg, as she watched the starry sky, in awe with Mr. Tibbles purring comfortably at her lap and a lazy Snowy at her feet, begging for attention while rubbing against her grey skirt.

Mr. Paws and Tufty were both sleeping next to her with their eyes closed, lying lazily draped across the chair.

As always it had been an uneventful day, in the muggle world. Sometimes she would dream of how it was to be a witch. Perhaps then she would love to fly across the sky at night while watching the houses at Private Drive grow smaller and smaller under her.

She sighed. There was no point thinking about what she couldn't have, and as it was now, her life was quite good as it was. Who needed magic? She might not be able to perform magic, or even see it but she could certainly still feel it when it was used close to her. She might not be able to feel the magic of the more ordinary wizards but the more powerful they were, the easier it was to distinguish them.

Whenever Dumbledore had stopped by, she would always feel her mood lighten, even if it had been a very bad day. She sure liked the presence of it. Dumbledore's magic was unconsciously released after all; he was a strong wizard and also the defeater of Grindelwald.

Although she had read all those lies last year about how Dumbledore had gotten senile and that his magic had weakened, she still had no doubt in her mind that none of that could be true.

Mr. Tibbles flexed his back in her lap while showing his teeth, as he made a lazy yawn and decided to lie down again. She stroked his silky fur with a small smile.

He had always liked to sleep, and not just sleep like all other cats, he would sometimes sleep for a whole day in the same position without moving at all, and that had sometimes brought her to think, what if he suddenly dropped dead while she just thought he was simply sleeping as always?

Suddenly she felt oddly cold, and her breath was coming out as white air in the cold room. Her cats all stirred and sat up, ears pointing up sharply as they all stared at the same direction.

At a wall. No, not a wall… this direction led to.

The Dursley's.

Harry Potter was in danger.

The old antique Grandfather clock was sounding and she realized, that it was now midnight, she felt herself suck in a deep breath and holding her air, almost unable to breathe she fought the urge to faint as she realized the heavy onslaught of magic in the air, so very thick that it was almost strangling her.

Had Lord Voldemort managed to somehow break the wards around the Dursley's house? No, that couldn't be it, could it? Dumbledore had assured her that those wards were impenetrable! Why would he here now, if he knew that an attack would be impossible?

The air seemed to have turned into a mass of poisonous gas around her and the last thing she could remember before fainting was the way, Mr. Tibbles had stiffened as if in cramps, and fallen off her lap without a sound.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

It was with a heavy headache and a very sore body that Harry finally managed to wake up. It felt like he had slept for a week, without using his body, but he confirmed that it was still the 31th. It was still his birthday. He stretched his body, but retracted his feet fast as they had hit against wall, and dang it hurt.

He hurriedly dressed himself, feeling strangely uncomfortable in his clothes. It was a bit tight. Hermione and Ron would have a good laugh at his expense if they realized he'd gotten fatter and with the small amount of food the Dursley's offered him, no less!

He made his bed and turned to look for the photo album with his parent's pictures in it.

He froze.

Where his room was normally full of scattered robes, thrash, schoolbooks, parchments, quill's, etc, you-name-it, there was now, nothing. His room was squeaky-clean. Books were stacked on his shelves, and his clothes were neatly folded and in the closet, and the letters and parchments were now on his desk also stacked, how could he not have noticed? From this he could conclude, the only thing that had remained on its previous spot was the cage with a very happy Hedwig who cooed at him as if to congratulate him on his birthday.

"Morning girl."

Surely the Dursley's hadn't been in his room, that would be impossible, they wouldn't go near anything that was related to magic after all, but then… had he been so tired that he'd forgotten about cleaning up?

Momentarily forgetting about last night, he left his room in a few long strides, heading for the living room expecting to find the Dursley's sitting lazily in the couch and watching the morning news, and that they were, without looking up at him, of course.

It was how they did things, they managed to co-exist with him under this agreement of silence on both parts, neither would disturb the others unless it was about visitors, or rules. Harry had played their games for years, and knew what he could and could not do.

Today was just not a good day though. If Dudley's sudden screaming was anything to go by.

The fat Dursley son pointed straight at him as he was opening the fridge, while screaming loudly, causing both Petunia and Vernon to look over at Harry as well, he sighed. Did they have to be so dramatic?

Vernon jumped up from the couch while Petunia covered her mouth trying to hold back the surprised scream that came from herself.

"GET OUT MY HOUSE! I'M CALLING THE POLICE THIS INSTANT!" Vernon yelled, as his face turned to the shade of a plum. He reached for the nearest vase and threw it at Harry, who evaded in time, but winced as it crashed against the wall behind him.

"What's the matter with you today?" Harry shrugged, not quite understanding the current situation. Was Vernon really freaking out over him eating a little bit of breakfast-?

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, WALKING INTO OTHER PEOPLES HOUSES YOU THIEF!"

Harry blinked, and stood there dumbfounded for a moment, till he decided to run upstairs, when Vernon started throwing other things, while yelling incomprehensible nonsense at him.

"GET BACK HERE YOU BURGLER! HOW DARE YOU ROB AN HONEST MANS HOUSE!"

What the hell was going on?

His heart was pounding strangely in his chest as he saw a boy watching him from the end of the hallway. He couldn't believe it.

He was taller. No, not just that, he looked very…different.

"Yes! He's hiding upstairs! Hurry and get him! We don't know what he could do to us! He was threatening us in our own living room I tell you!" Vernon cried downstairs to the policemen at his front door.

Harry snapped out of his initial shock and rushed into his room and pushed the bed over to cover the door, while he threw his stuff in his trunk as fast as he could, then he stopped and reached for his wand. It was still underage magic… should he or should he not?

He felt his hand loosen around the wand as it dropped to the floor, and he unconsciously started to point at the objects, breathing frantically, as he felt the magic channel through his hands and to his fingertips.

Wandless magic, of course, was untraceable. Within seconds all belongings in his room were safely packed into his trunk and he threw a locking charm at the door, panicking under the screaming voices outside the room.

_How do I get out, how do I get out, how do I get out!_ He screamed inside his mind trying to find any solutions that didn't mean blowing the door away and taking down the police AND his less intelligent relatives.

_Why can't I apparate damnit!_

Maybe he could? He had never done it before alone but, perhaps, just perhaps he could. Holding tightly onto his trunk he closed his eyes and tried to imagine some place far away from here, far away from civilisation, far away from everything. No wait. He didn't even look like himself so no one would recognize him anyways. Perhaps…

He felt the magic swirl around him, unexpectedly eager to be of use as it covered every inch of his body and luggage and with a sudden rush pulled him violent into nothingness as his room disappeared before his eyes.

He heard a crash as his trunk landed on solid ground and only a split second later found himself flat on his stomach in the dust of a dimly lid room, at The Leaky Cauldron.

Tom smiled at the thought of a new strange guest and hurried over to help him up. There was nothing like meeting new people.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

It was getting darker these days, and the darkness would easily change a mind's perception of the time. It had merely been three pm when the daylight had started to shy away, and the mood was gloomy around number twelve Grimauld Place.

The dark hallways would have been silent if not for the occasional sobbing of a certain portrait, hidden safely behind heavy curtains.

Now gathered outside their old headquarter, were the members of the Order, with the exception of the owner of the house, Sirius Black.

A person they would miss in more than one way, because not only had he been an active member of their Order, the loving godfather of their saviour but was also the only male heir left in the line of Blacks.

Now though, things and changed, and the house had kicked them out, warding itself against strangers, without the owner's permission none of them could enter, not even to retrieve their belongings that had been carelessly left inside, while ownership of the house had gone to, a stranger – and perhaps even a dark wizard for all they could know – and that meant trouble.

Question now was, who would enter the house next, seeing their secret battle plans and perhaps even use it against them

"Maybe Harry can-"

"He has to stay at his relatives, Tonks." Another wizard interrupted. "There is no way we can put him at risk at a time like this."

It was then that their leader, Albus Dumbledore had apparated to their spot, with an unfathomable expression of hopelessness.

"Harry has disappeared." He said, simply, leaving the small crowd in stunned silence, horror and confusion written across their faces.

"You mean that Voldemort has..." Molly pushed forward, eyes desperately begging him to say 'no'.

"I am sorry, Molly." Dumbledore said, as he turned to the rest. "At the current time, it is not quite certain what has happened, but a letter from Arabella Figg states that a magic strong enough to induce sleep to anyone within 2 miles of the Dursley's home was used before the disappearance, whether he disappeared during the night or the morning after, we still do not know, everyone was asleep, except for the Dursley's themselves, but they hadn't seen Harry at all that day, on the other hand their house was invaded by a burglar, that's when they realized that Harry's room was empty."

"I KNEW we couldn't trust those muggles to take care of our Harry." Tonks cursed. "The worst kind there is. I bet they didn't even bother to check if he was dead or alive in those weeks before."

The rest of the Order, ignoring Tonks' outburst, was left in stunned silence wondering if Dumbledore had really gone crazy this time.

"Two miles? He's really gone…"

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

"Are you from faraway, Sir?" Tom the barkeeper asked, smiling kindly at the young man, who had only minutes prior landed on his floor with luggage and owl-cage on top of him.

Tom had helped him up and offered him a chair at the bar and opened a butterbeer for his new guest, who smiled thankfully at him. Such a sweet young man, Tom had to admit, it wasn't everyday he had handsome boys dropping from the sky.

"I am, sir. I'm currently on a journey." Said the youth, looking slightly nervous.

"Oh, please call me Tom, like everyone around here does." Tom responded eagerly. "Do you wish to stay at the in or? We have plenty of rooms available at the moment."

"Thank you, Tom. I would be happy if you had a room for me, I actually need a place to stay." The youth glanced to his side, eyes falling on his luggage. In the owl-cage was the most beautiful snow-white owl cooing reassuringly at her owner.

"If you don't mind me asking, which name do you go by?" Tom dared himself to ask, but feeling slightly disheartened when the boy glanced up nervously, fidgeting in his bar stool.

The light now brightened the stranger's face more and Tom stared in poorly hidden awe at the face in front of him. The boy's eyes, they were two different colours!

In the dim light it would be hard to notice though but he was sure of it, the left was the most amazing emerald green while the right eye was a piercing sapphire blue. Green and blue wasn't so far apart really so it wasn't that notable unless you stared directly into the boy's eyes.

The boy was staring hard at him, and then sighed, eyes turning soft and pleading. The young man, for an instant looked even younger, as if he was merely 16 or so, but that couldn't be.

"As I said before, I'm looking for relatives, if I have any that is… " The boy stopped for a moment, then looked at him determinedly. "You see, I don't know who I am really, and was hoping I could perhaps get my heritage examined, if such a thing is possible. I do not wish to go by my old name, I've grown up, among muggles for so long," Then added. "Abusive muggles."

Tom felt anger rise in him, who would dare to abuse such a kind young man? He felt sympathy wash over him immediately. "I-I see, that must have been, a horrible experience."

The other's shoulders relaxed, Tom hadn't even noticed how tense the boy had looked prior, as he allowed himself to rest against the desk now, looking very relieved.

"I know someone who may be able to help you trace your ancestry." Tom said casually, wanting nothing more but for the youth to relax. "Should you need any assistance, of course."

"I guess you may call me, Raziel Evans for now. And yes I'd very much like any help I can get, in finding my genealogy, I have expected quite a few families already and would like to learn of my origins, my muggle caretakers wouldn't tell me anything." Raziel finally said, inclining his head.

"Nice to meet you then, Mr. Evans." Tom held out a hand as if greeting the young man for the first time.

"Likewise, Tom." Raziel's smile made Tom very happy, he couldn't explain why, but seeing the boy happy pleased him immensely. Was he perhaps wearing glamours?

He noticed himself staring at the boy's tousled, though silky black hair framing his face softly, there was something graceful about the way even hair seemed to curl slightly at the tips. If he could reach out and touch it he was sure it would slide through his fingers like water.

Raziel's face was defined, with somewhat high cheekbones, and a straight nose, giving him a long face that would be considered undeniably attractive to many. Raziel seemed trustworthy and had a strange innocent curiosity about him, which Tom couldn't blame him for if he had lived all his life in shadows.

"An acquaintance of mine, is very interested in bloodlines and family trees, perhaps he could help you. I must admit though, he is a bit eccentric, and a dark pureblood at that, so he might sometimes act a little, stoic." Tom explained, as Raziel fidgeted once more at the mention of 'dark wizard'.

"I would like to meet him, if you could arrange it?" The boy finally said

"I'll try." Tom grinned and reached for a butter beer, when he found the boy's glass empty. "On the house. Here's your key, room 14 is available, enjoy your stay, Mr. Evans."

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Cyril Bulstrode enjoyed his morning coffee greatly without it he simply could not wake up, and as a good father he had to keep structure in his everyday life, for the sake of his daughter. Millicent's mother had disappeared many years ago, and no one knew if she was dead or alive anymore - likely the first option in this case – but he still, even fourteen years later found himself thinking of her.

How did his daughter feel, not having even known her own mother?

Cyril's still youthful face wrinkled with worry. He was merely thirty-four and had married Millicent's mother Genna when he was just eighteen, it had been a sudden marriage and one of the reasons were the fact that Genna had been pregnant with Millicent already then. It was shameful to give birth outside marriage amongst the purebloods so he hadn't had much of a say in it, he couldn't allow his own blood child to appear as a bastard child in the wizarding world, also though he didn't always show it, he adored his daughter immensely, it wasn't her fault that her mother had run off to the dark lord and gotten herself killed after all, was it?

"Dad, there's a letter for you."

He turned around smiling as his eyes fell on his only daughter, oh yes, she looked so much like him and not much like Genna at all. "I see, thank you, Milly, I hope it's not Lucius again. I will not witness at his hearing, he should learn to sort out his own mess." He grumbled.

Millicent grinned in an almost child-like fashion as she handed him the letter, and for a moment she didn't look like the cunning Slytherin she strived to be. Her dad was spoiling her so much as it was, so she didn't even need a mother, she just longed to see her own dad happy too, and soon. He wasn't getting any younger and his life seemed to have gone to a halt. She knew he was trying to appear settled as always but he lacked interest in the future, now his only interest was his family.

Cyril's eyes narrowed as he read the letter, but soon broke into a smirk, or was it perhaps a weak smile?

It could only mean one thing. Business. Bulstrodes did prefer to keep themselves busy after all.

"Old Tom has found a stray cat." Cyril chuckled.

"And that's a good thing?" She inquired.

"He usually has a knack for finding… interesting people." Her father admitted and looked up. "Send him a letter of accept for tomorrow at 10.00."

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

The room wasn't anything great, but compared to any room in the Dursley's house, the feeling he got here was something he'd never felt at that house, he felt nearly at home here. The room was big and spacious, decorated with old furniture; there was a medium size table and some chairs near the only window. Next to the table were empty shelves, waiting to be filled out with books. And there was even a small fireplace.

Indeed it was a bit empty but nothing a little unpacking couldn't fix. He'd talked to Tom about staying here for a while and had even paid the barkeeper in advance; he had many things he would need to settle before he could look for more a permanent solution to his lack of residence.

Harry Potter, no Raziel Evans, once again found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror, from head to toe, and suddenly felt a small amount of narcissism point out its dirty head when he found that he was extremely comfortable with this new look of his. Oh no, he would never want to be a narcissist. It didn't seem to be the work of any spell. He soon found himself wondering if he could still turn into Harry Potter again.

So far no such luck, but then again wouldn't it be ok like this? Maybe to change back he needed to really want to BE Harry Potter, and that was something he could assuredly say, he did not. He had found it a bit strange at first when he found himself to be unexpectedly calm about all of this, not overly shocked or frightened, he was surprised yes but being someone else wasn't all bad.

Hedwig cooed and rattled in her cage as if asking him to let her out. He chuckled and opened the cage to let out his only friend. "I'm sorry, girl. I know you like to explore new places, but try not be seen here, ok-?"

The snowy white owl cocked her head a bit and flew to his shoulder gently, careful not to let her claws cut through his robes. "Woah.." Raziel cried out as Hedwig started nuzzling his hair, endearingly. "That tickles." He laughed and reached up to pet the black owl.

Wait black? His eyes widened.

"Oh Hedwig what have you done?" He demanded worriedly. "Well at least now people won't be too suspicious I guess. Can you change back?"

Hedwig cooed and with a bash of her wings her shining charcoal feathers immediately turned snow white once again. "I really had no clue you could do that." He admitted as he petted her.

A knocking from the door made Hedwig coat herself in black again, refusing to get off her owner's shoulder, he was hers after all, snow owls were most possessive of their masters.

It was Tom at the door, handing him a letter.

"Mr. Bulstrode has sent this for you, Mr. Evans." Tom smiled then noted. "My, what a beautiful owl you have, she can even change color, how unusual."

Raziel carefully let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yeah, she's one of a kind." It wouldn't matter if Tom had seen her white form he decided. Owls were magical too of course. But, it was better to be safe.

_Obliviate._ The youth thought holding back the tinge of guilt.

Tom only froze for a short moment before he blinked and continued as if nothing had happened. "Well see you later, Mr. Evans." The keeper said cheerfully as he turned to walk back down to the bar while muttering to himself. "Why was I here again?"

He closed the door and let himself fall backwards onto the bed, ripping the letter open and pulling out its contents, consisting of small piece of paper and a small black stone.

_July__ 31, 1996_

_Mr. Evans:_

_I have for many years studied various bloodlines and families and as a result of that gained knowledge on new ways to link people to their ancestors, even over 20 generations back, which others do not possess. _

_I would gladly accept your request but to follow through I must have you swear an oath, to make sure that none o__f this knowledge leaves my house, also for the sake of your privacy as well. I hope you can agree to these terms as I can't help you otherwise._

_If you agree, use this temporary Portkey at exactly 10.00 tomorrow, I will be awaiting you. Do not be late and please burn the letter when you have read it._

_If you cannot agree then either burn this letter still or it will self-destruct before midnight today, and I highly doubt you'd want an indoor explosion, Tom might be upset with me if that happens._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Cyril Teion Eadmund Bulstrode._

Raziel grinned, well if Mr. Bulstrode hadn't insisted on an oath of silence, then he himself would have either way.

He crumbled the letter and threw it into the flames of the fireplace and tucked the stone in his hand. He changed into a more neutral robe for work use. Unfortunately he had another problem on his to-do list. His clothes was now way too short for him and that meant he would have to venture out into the dangerous outside world - to buy a whole new wardrobe.

"Mr. Bulstrode," Raziel wondered, sure he'd heard the name somewhere before. Oh yes, Millicent Bulstrode, from Slytherin, how could he forget? "I'll be going shopping in diagon alley, Hedwig. Please take care of my things for me while I'm gone." He smiled as Hedwig gave and annoyed huff at being left behind.

"I'll bring something good for you to eat, but I have to check if I can even pull out money from Gringotts' now that I don't exactly look like a P-myself anymore." He told her, silently making a notion to himself of being careful with what he said. One could never know who might listen, although Tom seemed to have been genuine, it wouldn't mean others couldn't listen in.

He tapped the stones to unlock the entrance to diagon alley with his fingers as he no longer had his wand with him. He had forgotten to pick it up from the floor before his disappearance. This had of course been a mistake as relying on wandless magic wasn't exactly safe. He had tried a few simple spells and the magic would still only work half of the time or less. He'd have to practice diligently some when he got home.

The streets were packed with wizards and witches like it always was when a new school term was nearing. He distantly felt a sting knowing he might soon miss school again, but the longing for Hogwarts were soon far overshadowed by the experiences he'd felt as Harry Potter. He shuddered as he felt himself slip further into his new identity as an ordinary wizard.

Gringotts came into view right ahead and Raziel's hand was firmly clutching the small golden key to his parents vault. The wizard bank seemed darker than he remembered it, the light was dim and there were only a few people today. Marching to the nearest counter he braced himself as the Goblin looked up from a book to meet his eyes.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Kunx was bored, so very bored.

These humans weren't exciting at all and sitting in a bank all day glaring and potentially frightening young wizards and witches was only so much fun. The last 'client' had been a lady with her young son. Kunx knew, from the displeased look of the child's face that here was another spoiled young brat with little patience. He didn't look surprised when the child started to point fingers at his fellow Goblins and talked loudly, in his arrogance.

"Why is their skin like great grandpas? It's so wrinkly!" The child said with disgust. Impertinent child. Before he could stop himself, his magic had already unconsciously pulled the child's pants down to reveal a pink butt to the rest of the audience, making the child scream and fall on his knees trying to hide his remaining pride.

The mother gasped and threw her coat over the rude little screaming balloon. Children these days. So loud and obnoxious, and Kunx wasn't getting any younger, he really didn't want to deal with creatures of this low intelligence, he could forgive the ugliness of humans, after all they didn't choose their appearance as much as he'd chosen his own, he could certainly forgive their pink, brown, purple or whatever ugly colour their skin had, but he could _not_ forgive a _stupid_ AND ugly human, that was just too much.

The Goblin sighed and buried his nose in large black book, waiting for the next lowly creature to come forth.

Kunx was surprised to say the least when a certain smell invaded the room, he smelled pureblood, and not such a weak one either, the magic was almost sizzling in the air and it was obvious that the fool wasn't even aware of his own weak control of his magic, it was nearly effecting the whole room, and he wasn't surprised when even the old Goblin, Grodz looked up from his account-book behind stacks of paper.

The young wizard looked around the room nervously and Kunx concluded that the youth had something to hide, not so surprising really, if his appearance was anything to go by. He'd never been in Gringotts before, ever, or at least not in this shape. Of that Kunx was certain, he remembered each and every human no matter how alike they all looked to him and he took great pride in his skills of observation.

Purebloods usually carried themselves with a certain grace and didn't usually speak carelessly, making it much easier to deal with them, they seemed to at least have acquired some amount of intellect. Kunx pretended to read, silently watching the boy walk towards his counter.

"And who may you be?" Kunx asked quietly, his gaze scrutinizing and calculating as his eyes took in the shy boy's appearance. Definitely never seen this one, Kunx grumbled to himself, but he guessed than in a magical humans eyes, this boy might be quite good-looking, not that he could ever understand that. Kunx eyes stopped at the boy's eyes that sported two different colours -sapphire and emerald. The Goblin fought back the impulse to cackle at his discovery.

'_A rare one this boy is_.'

"Raziel Evans." He answered and hurriedly placed the little golden key at Kunx' counter, and the Goblin could immediately feel the awkwardness from the boy as he spoke the name. A fake one, obviously and this key was certainly, _Harry Potters_. How _interesting,_ maybe his day was finally turning a bit more exciting, Kunx would play along for this one, he thought as he led the boy to the Potters vault.

"A different name but still the same person I see. You have many names it seems, Mr. _Evans_." Kunx said with poorly hidden entertainment as if he was ready to cackle any moment, but held his mask. "Too bad we Goblins are bound by an oath of secrecy and therefore can't reveal other peoples' secrets. Or should I say good for _you_?"

Kunx decided that he liked the sudden snap of the wizards face as he turned to meet his eyes, remaining silent for another moment. Oh yes, this one knew what he was up to.

"How much is there left?" The youth finally asked, gracefully letting Kunx' comment slacken its obvious hold on him. _Evasive is he?_

"78.458 thousand galleons, Mr. Evans." Kunx answered uninterested then added. "And three knuts."

The wizard placed a small bag on the floor in front of the opened vault letting the money levitate right into it, without a wand. Kunx wasn't surprised it was to be expected. The bag was sealed carefully and was levitating for a moment before it fell to the ground. The boy sighed embarrassed and picked it up with his hands instead, from this Kunx immediately understood – this child wasn't used to wandless magic at all, in fact it seemed forced, maybe that explained the force of magic around him. Only by using a large amount of magic could he cover up for the wasted magic he had not yet learned to channel and use through wandless means.

"I wish to move the rest of the money from this vault to a new one under my, _current _name, but I want the old vault to remain as well. And…." He met the Goblins eyes coolly. "You are_ not _to document the transfer."

"Tricky are we? And what name should this new account belong to?" The Goblin inquired, eyes sharpening with piqued interest. _He doesn't want to be found_, the Goblin added as a mental note regarding his newest object of interest. It wasn't often these days that something managed to keep Kunx' attention for more than a few seconds, yet here was a runaway child, who had no clue who he was and used wandless with such an enormous amount of magic, that would have caused any normal wizard to faint, that if the boy ever learned to master it and lessen the wasted magic then he'd be a very lethal weapon that no one would wish to cross paths with._ Perhaps, ignorance was better after all?_

"I'll come back in seven days, by then I'll make the transfer and name it." Raziel said sternly.

"I see, probably the clever choice, you seem, unaware of your other accounts." Kunx said intentionally confusing the boy. _Screw ignorance, the world is so boring already, a little excitement might spice it up, dark powers or not, he should know._

"My other accounts? What does that mean?" Raziel demanded, unknowingly increasing the pressure of his magic. Kunx knew that had he been anything but a Goblin now, his mind would have been swayed to answer things he shouldn't. The ancient defensive magic of Goblins kept his mind safe though and he didn't blame the boy, it was obvious that the young wizard had no clue about his own powers and Kunx sincerely hoped that he would gain control of it soon or else others might notice it too.

"Well I cannot tell you, in your current state, to enter these accounts you must know whom they belong to." The Goblin informed with a cackle.

"You said they belonged to me, did you not?"

"True, and yet not entirely. Who do you speak as?"

"Raziel Evans."

"If that is your name then I cannot lead you to them. They belong to your other selves after all, not this _Evans_ that you claim to be."

"So as… H-Harry Potter-?" The boy asked quietly, almost as a whisper.

"Ahh no, unfortunately you are very lost, silly human. As Harry Potter you would _neve_r have the authority to enter these vaults." Kunx cackled, Potter was a light wizard family, if the boy had kept the Potter name he would never be allowed near his darker self's accounts - and Kunx himself would never have bothered to mention them - which was probably why. "I believe it is very logical really. When you've found your name, your _real_ name, come back and I'll lead you there. I shall say no more."

With a satisfied grin the little Goblin turned to leave and didn't know why it shocked him so much that he stopped dead in his tracks when the boy asked;

"Thank you, I appreciate your help a lot… if…If you don't mind, could you tell me your name?"

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

"Ouch! Be careful with those things!" The boy snapped, hissing in anger. Miranda Malkins did her best to ignore her blonde customer and continue as if nothing had been said. She knew that Malfoys were all a bunch of whiny- scratch that – it would be best to avoid conflict, especially with the young boy's father sitting in Azkaban and mother shamed as the article, _Malfoys: Fallen from Grace_ suggested. She decided the boy must have enough on his mind as it was and held back, completely forgetting the prior outburst when the next needle went even deeper, bringing a loud wince.

"Stand still!" Her retort came fast and effective like a whip before the Malfoy child could protest any further. The doorbell was set off but her eyes remained on her task.

After sticking the needle a bit too far quite a few times with no consequence from the young Malfoy, did she finally notice the silence in the room?

Her eyes caught the way he looked into the mirror that reflected the door where the newly arrived customer was waiting patiently. Was it pride that made him put on a front or was he merely so caught up in staring at a stranger that he'd become unresponsive towards physical pain?

The room that had seemed almost cold prior was now just right, and she felt a faint brush of her heat as her eyes had fallen on the newcomer, through the mirror reflection. She certainly hadn't seen this one before. It was a wondrous young man, sitting there be the window in unbreakable silence, and staring at his own hands with a thoughtful expression in those clear blue eyes. Or was it green eyes-? She didn't know.

His hair fell loosely around his face like a waterfall of the finest black silky hair she'd seen for a long time, it wasn't so unusual for wizards to actually stay well-groomed but it was rare to actually see a man with prettier hair than most women, she noted and unconsciously stabbed the next needle a bit deeper than the rest.

The man was a masterpiece really, and his way of carrying himself, oh sweet merlin, even just sitting screamed pureblood. And yet. If he was a pureblood then wouldn't she have known him? She could proudly say that her own family was pureblood and she had many favourable connections with pure-blooded families to whom she sewed clothes and she was sure that she would have heard of this one, if he was in fact a pureblood.

She finally finished her fitting and silently thanked the unknown man at the window with a grin; this man had just made her fitting with a difficult customer, _easy_, and he didn't even know it.

"All done, Mr. Malfoy." She said and secretly enjoyed the pained expression Malfoy gave when he finally realized almost a whole minute later that it was over and it was – _time to leave the young stranger _- time to leave the shop.

"You'll receive your robes within a week then, Goodbye." She fought back a grin as Malfoy had stopped outside her shop with a strange look on his face, before re-entering.

"My mother will be by shortly for her fitting as well so I'll wait here." He said with a piercing voice and held his mask as he tried as gracefully as he could to sit down next to the stranger who didn't spare him even a glance, he was by now deeply consumed in an article posted in the Prophet, and the **HARRY POTTER GONE WITHOUT A TRACE** one at that.

"I see." Miranda was enjoying this, could the pureblood even be any bolder?

He walked to greet the stranger who finally looked up at her with an unreadable expression as if scrutinizing her coolly, before he broke into a small smile. "I guess it's my turn now then?" The black haired boy spoke.

"Certainly," She smiled. "I don't remember seeing you here before, Mr….?"

"Evans." The young man said, something flickered through his eyes, but was gone too fast for her to see what it was. "I need four work robes and two, more formal ones and if possible, some robes for travelling, in cold. Preferred colours are, green, blue and black."

"Alright. Mr. Evans. Come right over, dear, we'll get you measured." She explained and pulled out her magical tape measure. It uncurled itself and swirled in the air like a live snake ready to curl around something like a true constrictor.

While the tape flew around doing its work, she watched the man for a moment before striking up a conversation.

"So you've read the news about Harry Potter I presume, Mr. Evans?" She saw his eyes darken for a split-second and thought that perhaps it had been the wrong choice of topic.

"Indeed, 'without a trace' huh." Mr. Evans finally spoke. "It is obvious that they are with-holding certain facts about the incident from the reporters, if the lack of information in this article is anything to go by."

"Yeah, my nephew who works in the ministry has informed me that Harry Potters room was empty when they arrived, only his wand was left behind, and a black marking on the floor between shattered furniture. He told me it looked like a tiny hurricane had passed through the room." She told him, eager to talk to this new customer. Malfoy looked slightly discerned from his spot at the window, secretly watching them closely. "It still doesn't explain why his possessions, such as clothes and trunk is gone without a trace."

"Perhaps You-know-Who's way to trick people into assuming that… Harry Potter has escaped." He said hesitantly. "You-know-who always did enjoy giving false hope to the people only to crush it within seconds."

"You may be right, Harry Potter would have no reason to escape, after all most of the wizarding world would want to protect him…" She stopped as a shiver caused through her spine, when had the air suddenly turned so cold? It was warm and comfortable only a moment ago, wasn't it-?

Before she could wonder further, she realized the fitting has over, and she looked around confused. When had she started fitting, Mr. Evans? Hadn't she just begun the measurement? She had completely lost track of time and was sad that she would have to let this one go so soon.

"Well I guess this is it, Mr. Evans." She said with a tight smile. "For the formal robes, do you have any requests."

"No, I'll be counting on you to figure something out." Mr. Evans said with a bright smile that seemed to pierce the coldness in the room. "I'll be hearing from you then. Madam."

He did a gentle bow as he turned on his heel and left the store.

The room was warm once again.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

It was with heavy footsteps, he finally made it back to his room fourteen in the Leaky Cauldron. The night was still young but carrying a bag full of gold had not made it easier.

He had found himself thinking constantly of the meeting with Kunx. The little Goblin's words had stirred something inside him, something unexplainable. _His other selves?_

Raziel wasn't sure what to make of such a statement. It was obvious the Goblin had figured out something about him that he himself had not yet known.

But he had a feeling that tomorrow would open up the doors to some of these questions that swirled around his mind.

If there were other accounts that belonged to him… what would he find if he could open them?

And what name was he supposed to take on to gain access?

Kunx had told him that 'Harry Potter' would never have gained access to this knowledge, did that mean that it was something that he as _Harry Potter _could not use?

The Potter name had in several books been compared to light magic, so perhaps this was about dark magic?

And these were just some of the questions that bugged him.

"Shut up." He told himself as he stripped his clothes and walked towards the bathroom to get a nice hot bath and to clear the pandemonium state his mind was currently in.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Judging by the fact that he still had not received any complains from Tom about an explosion, it would seem that the Evans boy had at least read his letter.

He had prepared several books and was at the moment, casting a magic circle on the cold stone floor a sticky red mass. Blood.

Hopefully the child, or man wasn't weak of heart.

Tom hadn't specified the age only written the word "young".

"Dad, he is here! Should I bring him in?" His daughter's voice reached through the closed door.

"No, I'll be out in a minute, I need to ward the room.

"_Periurium Silentium_." He intoned with a great force as an invisible bubble spread from the tip of his old eleven inches ebony wand with a core of unicorn tail hair. The bubble grew and grew till finally it settled against every nook and crook of the dinner hall, which he had chosen to use for this particular ritual.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

She felt the intrusion as the wards rang with warning when forceful light drowned the room in a strange heat and eventually faded into the shape of a man.

"Welcome, Mr. Evans." She said suddenly giving a small bow, before realizing her actions.

A pureblood would not bow as deep as she had done. It was shameful to bow so deep for someone even if they were equal, it should have been more like a gentle bend of the neck. A bow from a pureblood would only be used to greet a Lord.

She looked up, trying to wipe the expression of horror from her face as she met the eyes of the stranger having not been able to foresee that she would instantly forget her aforementioned conduct.

"Greetings Ms. Bulstrode." The young man spoke with a suave undertone to his already clear voice.

All Millicent noticed was the small smile and the way he bowed his head levelly.

"Wait here and I'll announce your arrival." She said not sure if she was sad or relieved from her excuse to turn her head the other way. She wasn't usually one to gawk at good looking men, and she was usually quite picky when it came to boys, but here was a man, not more than a few a few years older than her at most, making her babble and forget her own thoughts, it was not a good thing.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

There are times in each person's life that would forever stay a clear memory. You'd normally think that these memories were either that of trauma or happiness so great that it couldn't be explained with words. But here he was and he knew then that he would never forget the person before him. Not even if he wished to. He didn't need a circle or a ritual to see whom it was, it was clear as daylight, everything fit.

He'd spend much of his time reading old descriptions of these families and although they should no longer exist, the last heir to either of these families had disappeared over threehundred years ago after all, and here was a boy who held the traits of both families as strong in him as if he'd been their direct blood male heir.

The distinctive blue-black hair, the defined face, and the eyes, the watery sapphire eye and the poisonous Avada green emerald, everything fit, and yet, these two families had no record of intermarriage at all and the child was despite his appearance, no older than his daughter.

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Cyril Bulstrode stared hard for a moment and without thinking it over, he felt his hard stone mask fall off and let the sincerity shine through unable to hold back his awe and said. "Allow me to formally propose to adopt you, Raziel Zuine Peverell."

* * *

…_End of chapter one…_

* * *

**IMPORTANT!** Chapter one and two are now combined into one, longer chapter, because most of my chapters are around 10k words or 20 pages in Word.

I began this a long time ago and just had it lying around for ages on my computer, now after watching some harry potter movies I just had the urge to pull it up again.

I hope this isn't too confusing, but to make some things clear.

1. Yes Harry has fled his fate, for now.

2. He'll be influenced greatly by dark wizards.

3. He will turn dark

4. His real appearance isn't gone for good or anything, but he has more than 1 influental family among his ancestors in this story, at the night of his birthday the powers which were lying dormant before has 'woken up' - perhaps answering his desires to be different - and as a result altered his appearance, the two different color eyes is a symbol of two different families.

5. Yes this is slash, but it might not be the main point of the story at all times, it will be very slowpaced and long to build up the relationships better, I hate rushing these days.

If you've read all that and is still interested, then thank you for your time, most people ignore the line under here anyways...

Reviews would be appreciated, try not to be too hard on me, english isn't my language, but contructive criticism I will gladly accept.


	2. ϟ Scent of Chrysanthemums ϟ

**Full summary:** At the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites and a new face, Harry decides to flee, believing that people count on chance to save them too much, it's time for them to wake up to reality and the fact that their _saviour_ might not necessarily choose to save them after all, it is time to be _Dark_. With Harry Potter gone, their world is thrown into a frenzy of panic and uproar, just the kind of distraction needed for a new unknown pureblood, Raziel, to make his appearance without bringing too much attention to himself. Slightly Dark!Harry. Eventually Powerful!Harry. HP/DM**  
Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue.**  
Rating**: **T** for now but **M** later.**  
Pairing**: Both slash and Het. Main will eventually be _Draco/Harry_ but for those against slash you can consider this a Harry/no one fic, coz I'll be placing slash warnings for each chapter.  
**Beta: ****Hikari Ice Angel **- Thanks for the thorough spellcheck and removal of unnecessary words, etc =) I've read your notes and find them very helpful ^^ I can see you spend a good amount of time on it.**  
Dedicated:** Xannon231, Shishiri, LadyLunasuki, Pati101, David305, Akinyi222, Elfwyn, JtheChosen1

* * *

Thanks your reviews.

Thank my beta if you find this chapter more pleasing to the eyes, it is hard work to fix my writing since my chapters are so very long, I hope I didn't scare Hikari away x D

I changed the title thanks to a reviewer who corrected my awful latin ; ) For Xannon's question, Zuine is an original family yes, I'm trying to keep the characters and the world somewhat cannon to the books, but there isn't enough info about pureblood families in the real Harry Potter for the universe I'm trying to create so I had to expand it a bit with some originality. As for the time being, isn't it more exciting when you don't know what kind of family they were?

I know a lot of you have alerted or looked at this story simply because it's slash, but an eventual relationship will move slow, they are still on enemy stage really so it will take some time to see each other in another way. I'm not a 'love at first sight' author, the whole concept is too unatural for a serious story (I think), also it might be a bit one-sided at first. Harry is a clueless oaf when it comes to love, even as Raziel.

You may wonder why everyone pays so much attention to Harry, for no apparent reason, it is not to turn him into an author's pet (mary sue), but simply has something to do with his unruly magic. Well this chapter should drop a hint about that.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Tenebrae Aeternae  
Chapter Two  
****- _Scent of Chrysanthemums_ -**

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Raziel stood there dumbfounded and made no effort to wipe the expression off his face either.

The man in front of him might as well have grown a second head and he would have been less surprised, but why would a stranger who'd never met him before just skip the greetings, the friendship, and the in-between content! And… and just jump right out and ask 'can I be your father?'

No, this was not possible… something had to be very wrong, everything about this seemed alarmingly wrong. He had to check.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bulstrode. I believe I missed that. For a moment I thought you just asked for permission to adopt me, as in becoming your adopted son, unbelievable right?" Raziel laughed nervously to himself, waiting for a positive response to reject the words.

The Bulstrode stood firmly planted at his spot in front of him with the same concerned eyes he'd had before.

"Not much so, you'll need a family and an alibi to throw off any suspicions, what if people found out you were a Zuine, you'd be in danger." The man said and looked earnestly concerned about his well-being. Why would this man care if he were imprisoned?

Raziel's eyes hardened, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if the scene before him would vanish and he would wake up, unfortunately when he opened them again, they once again met the imperial topaz eyes of Mr. Bulstrode.

"Look, let's just say this didn't happen and do what I came here for." He said wearily as a headache started to build up, causing a subtle wince.

"You won't have to take my name, Harry. Would you still claim to be a wizard of the Light after all this?" Mr. Bulstrode spoke rapidly. All Raziel noticed was the use of his old name. The wizard knew who he was. "The ruling families are of light, if they found out there was a new mysterious dark wizard they wouldn't leave you alone, you'd be seen as a danger to all in the wizarding world, and perhaps a follower of the d- you-know-who, with everyone in a panicking frenzy, about You-know-who's return and of course _Harry Potters_ – your - disappearance, you might go straight to Azkaban without questioning, do you have a suitable explanation to exist in this world, in this shape, when your magical parents can't even be traced by the ministry?"

Raziel felt a twinge at the other's words. He knew it was true, if he was caught by the ministry, he couldn't possibly explain why he should exist in this world, also he couldn't even reveal himself to be Harry Potter anymore he couldn't change back, at least not yet. It was more likely that they'd treat him like an insane madman with a celebrity complex; did he really want to go through that? He couldn't forget how much the world had turned on him for just telling the truth last year, and now as a stranger, his voice held absolutely no power at all.

For a moment he felt almost hatred towards the Light wizards, he'd never quite understood how bad it could be to be misunderstood, after all they wouldn't care what happened to him, all they cared about was ridding the world of another possible threat to their own lives.

"What's in it for you?" Raziel demanded. If he were to let himself adopt he would need a good reason. The offer itself wasn't bad, if he had known the man better and was comfortable around him and his family, but this was not offered because the man wanted a son, there was more to it.

"This," The man held up a small vial, the clear colour of the potion indicated it was… "Is veritaserum, I'm sure you have seen it before. Three drops will be enough to pour out my heart for at least five minutes, in that time, ask me anything you want and I'll answer, to prove to you that I'm sincere."

"Why would you go this far?" Raziel wondered, a bit unnerved by the fact that the man so eagerly wanted to prove himself.

"If you reject this offer still then I will not bother you anymore. But even so you should expect other families to do the same. This won't be the last offer of adoption, Raziel." Mr. Bulstrode ignored his question. "I'll take exactly three drops now."

He wrenched the cap of the vial off and let the first drop collide with his opened mouth. Raziel looked carefully to check that each drop went down, as they should.

"That should be it." The man said and looked over at him. "This room is secured so that no one can listen in. Now, ask what you must."

Raziel swallowed uncomfortably and avoided the eager eyes for a moment before looking up to meet the light brown orbs of Mr. Bulstrode. "Your name?"

"Ha-Cyril Eadmund Bulstrode," Cyril tested as to prove that he could not lie, then explained. "Cyril as in 'Lord' and Eadmund as in 'Protector of prosperity'."

"Are you a Death Eater or do you have connections with Death Eaters?" Raziel watched him quietly.

Cyril hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth. "I'm not a Death Eater and I know close family aren't Death Eaters either, but I do stay on friendly terms with many of Death Eaters for the sake of peace and pureblood manner, although we don't agree on some terms we remain neutral to each other at least, I know too much about them so they also might not dare to kill me."

Raziel found then that he didn't really care if the man was associated with Death Eaters, it was to be expected after all, he couldn't suddenly just avoid them for it, after all.

"How did you know who I was without performing the ritual?"

"Your appearance, you're a merge of some of the strongest and most glorious dark wizard families to ever exist, if I couldn't recognize that, I'd say my years of studying pureblood history would have been a great waste. There's no denying that you must be theirs."

"What about me being Harry Potter? How could you tell? I don't look like myself after all."

"Because when I realized you were a Zuine I unconsciously invaded your mind, I'm sorry. I'm legillimens, and your occlumens shields were paper-thin if not non-existent. If you were to meet other legillimens you'd be revealed immediately, and that's why you should let me teach-"

"What is your reason for offering me adoption, and why do you say others would do the same?" Raziel interrupted and let a surge of anger through his mind, to let them man know what he thought of invasion of his mind. Cyril's eyes almost clenched for a moment as if he was still inside his mind and had felt the feeling.

"It would be a grand honour to any family to adopt and teach the last remaining heir of the Peverells and Zuines. You're like a rough diamond right now, you know nothing about yourself, yet you're young and eager to learn and could easily be polished into something great. Any dark family would proudly accept you as their own pureblood child."

"But I'm not a pureblood." Raziel argued, ignoring a sudden pound as his heart seemed to skip a beat.

"Yes you are." Cyril's eyes pierced into his making him accept that fact, but even if his heart accepted it, his mind still needed convincing.

"How? My mother is muggleborn." He countered, but to no avail, the young father just chuckled.

"You'd think that wouldn't you. It's because the Zuine line isn't known to many people." Cyril responded with a proud gleam, it was obvious the man was certain in his beliefs.

"Explain." Raziel felt an odd pounding within him that seemed to swallow up every titbit the man before him said, as it was the pure truth.

"The Zuine family is the family with most squibs ever produced because of their unique abilities, it skips generations before it settles in an heir, which might explain why they were thought extinct to this world for so long, but now, there's you. Your muggle aunt is actually a squib but even she doesn't know that, but then again a squib is not much different from a muggle, I guess."

"And?" Raziel pushed.

"And even though you're a magical heir to the Zuine, you might still not have all the abilities your ancestors did. Which is why you should let me trace your blood, I can link you to the exact ancestor whose magic now resides in you." The Bulstrode continued quietly.

"Do you know what these abilities include?" He asked, curiosity once again getting the better of him.

"Truth sight, Da- oh, it seems the potion has stopped working." Cyril announced as he touched a hand to his throat as if it was hurting from talking non-stop. "That's just one of the abilities, I know more, but it's uncertain whether or not their truly exist."

"But, Truth-sight? What does that mean?" Raziel pushed, as if he had been left with an insatiable lust for knowledge and feeling very much like a Ravenclaw all of a sudden.

"Exactly what it says, you possess an uncanny ability to see truth from lies, you may perhaps, already have felt it during our conversation."

"But it's not a dark ability really is it?" Once again he ignored the fact that the man had read him like an open book, he had felt like he had heard 'the truth' or at least part of it. Something in him said there was so much more to it than what the Bulstrode had told him, but he also the man wouldn't simply give up the information and allow him to walk away.

"Not every ability is per se, 'dark' and a dark ability doesn't equal 'evil ability' as you probably meant, boy. Whether something is evil depends wholly on the individual and even then every wizard in this world has their own perception of what is considered evil and what is not, just because you don't agree with someone's method doesn't mean that they're doing it to show that they are 'evil' now does it? How did you feel when people found out you were a Parselmouth for example? To some people, the mere fact that you have that ability makes them deem you as evil, even if you were only using light magic." Cyril grumbled, as he took seat at the table, looking weary for a moment.

"Although," Cyril continued unfeelingly. "We all know these things, we still tend to forget them every once in a while, after all it is much simpler to just keep things simple instead of making them complicated, but nothing is ever simple, it's nothing but an illusion we create in order to defend ourselves against the things that makes our lives complicated. Complications force us to leave our zone of safety and think individually, while when things are simple we can all more or less follow the fake laws of black and white and live comfortably ignoring reality to some extend. Which kind of person do you strive to be? The Simple or the Complicated?"

Raziel sat in silence for a moment with mixed feelings, of course deep inside he knew that too, but something in him tugged on a bit of anger noting that even a child should be able to understand something that simple and yet he had been so busy with unconsciously categorizing abilities into good or bad ones. He remembered clearly what panic and accusations had followed when people found out he could speak to snakes. If he was using a dark ability for the good of people he cared for, then according to him, it was a 'good ability' no matter what others thought.

"In any case, Truth sight is a valuable ability, you don't need to be a legillimens to notice if people lie to your face." Cyril interrupted his train of thought, relieved to be halted from his negative mindset. "Also Truth Sight can assist you with other things like… Oh, just a moment and I'll show you."

The Bulstrode marched over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a huge book, clad in black leather with a silver hinge. A moment later the giant book was placed in front on him and he stared up quizzically at the other. "What's this?"

"Take a look at this and tell me what you see." The man urged pointing at the book. "Well go on!"

Raziel reached out to open the book. As he opened it the book seemed to tense under his touch and snapped shot a moment after as if his touch had hurt it. An orange glow emitted from the book as it pushed away from him when he attempted to reach for it again.

"Why does it do that? Is that my ability? To make objects flee from my touch?" He muttered sarcastically.

"Of course not! Look closely; it's not what the book does that matters, it does that because you aren't a member of the Bulstrode family, this book contains information about our lineage and our place in the grand tree of life, which is why you, still an outsider cannot read it. What matters is what the book _is_!" Cyril said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why does it glow orange?" Raziel grumbled annoyed that he saw nothing noteworthy in the book, or rather _the outside of the book_, what was the point of this again?

Suddenly the other broke out laughing heartily, his expression changing from that of a tired man to a young energetic wizard.

"It doesn't glow, actually, at least not to the average person, it does to you because you _see_ it for what it is, now take my hand and touch the book with your other hand." The now smiling wizard demanded as he pushed the fleeing book towards him. He reluctantly placed his hand on the cover as he held the other man's humid hand gently in his.

The book shook a bit but then relaxed under his touch and let him run his fingers over the unnaturally smooth leather wrapping. As he did this he felt magic stream into his hand without prior warning and almost caused him to pull back automatically from the shock. Closing his eyes he tried to look inwardly at himself as he felt his heartbeat pounding loudly in his mind, frantic and struggling with an inner battle of its own to circulate his blood faster as if to clean out the foreign magic in his system.

His body sensed a sudden familiarity as if it recognized the spells guarding the book, slowly unbinding them, one after another. The defensive spells to keep strangers from touching the book were being undone, and he didn't know how to stop it but his body now reacted instinctually to remove the strange yet familiar magic from his the body the only way it knew how to, and that was to continue to break it down, into smaller pieces, into tiny little particles that couldn't harm him, and finally it was swallowed by his own magic, tearing away at the smaller fragments and consuming them greedily.

Without a clue as to what spells they were other than what the protectiveness of defensive magic allowed him to know, he was a moment later met with a crashing sensation that turned his world upside down. It was like an explosion and then next thing he knew he was pushed into the back of his mind, his body had become his cage to make room for the overflow of sensations. The feeling wasn't entirely painful, the clash of emotions was just overpowering and he soon felt them as real as if they were his very own emotions. Among those were secrecy, admiration, protectiveness, pride and love a lot of feelings that had probably been imprinted in the book over a span of hundreds of years perhaps even more, they sang to him softly as if they had longed for attention. Raziel's eyes were now glazed with an unreadable and distant look. They fell on the hand holding his, and it had tightened when it had happened he did not know. The man now sitting before him did not longer smile; he looked vulnerable and naked as if his soul had been stripped from all covers.

The Bulstrode looked like he was crying, but there were no tears, they weren't really there yet he could see them clearly, as could he now with the calming emotions from the book inside him unexpectedly sense other things. There it was, a smothering sensation in the air, indicating something he did not yet understand, nor did he have the time to ponder as the next wave came.

He was overwhelmed by a new ocean of new emotions causing through his being, shaking his core violently. Pain followed and his focus on the man before him was snatched as foreign emotions pushed, pressed, and forced themselves, in, carving away mercilessly as they passed through him, now eager to show themselves, he felt a strong hatred filling him to the brim. He wanted to destroy, what he destroyed didn't matter. It felt like he had been locked away somewhere in a small corner of his body as strong emotions that wasn't his guide, forced and persuaded his own thoughts and he felt a small relief in the tiny corner of his mind when the hate left him to be replaced with a seething desire followed by confusion.

It hurt, and he wanted to let it out, screaming would have helped him express some of it, but screaming wasn't an option he couldn't scream he found. He couldn't pull away, he couldn't push it away, he couldn't do anything and it hurt, it hurt so badly that he thought he would lose his sanity.

One feeling shone through the others and he clutched his mind around it, it was pride. He found himself focusing on the feeling of pride, something that had previously been of little use to him. He didn't have much he felt proud about, only weak memories such as winning Quidditch matches and the sensation of flying across the sky on his Firebolt, it was something he'd often done to clear his head. Flying made every earthly feeling seem miniscule. Then the memory of Sirius presented itself. His dear godfather who had been framed for murder and had spent twelve years in Azkaban before fleeing the prison to save him. He had in the short time while he had his godfather with him, come to love the man close the love of a father.

He had been proud of his godfather, proud of the man who had endured so many setbacks in his life but still stood strong to the end.

The pain in his head had dulled vastly and sadness had taken over, a deep pain as real as the one he'd felt on the night in the ministry when his godparent had fallen into the veil, to never return. He knew his eyes were tearstained by now, even if he couldn't feel it, but looking up at the lone father in front of him, eyes watching him now, calmly, not calculatingly or irately, just watching him in silent understanding and he repressed a rising feeling of anger to yell at the man to not sit there and look at him as if he understood every crook of his soul. But he did understand, and that only made the anger even more merciless. Some part of him wanted the understanding, while the other resented it so deeply that it made him want to kill, for the first time in his life, he felt naked. Soul bared and pitied by another, it angered him and the anger kept building as the man stroked his hand while crying for him.

The confusion, desire and foul hatred from the book was overtaken by his own stubborn pride and were no more.

"I'm sorry," The man said. "I am not pitying you, Raziel. You don't need my pity. But I can't help but feel that you are a lot like me."

_I'm not pitying you._

His anger punctured as if the man had effectively stabbed a needle into it and let out the building poison. Yes, he never wanted to be pitied, he realized then that he had more than one kind of pride. He was not only proud of his wins during Quidditch or Proud of having had the best god damn godfather in the world, he was also proud of himself, for remaining independent, but independence didn't mean he shouldn't let other's close to him, it didn't mean he had to spend his life alone without human company.

Pride was double-edged indeed.

And then he understood. Understood that it was… a father's emotions that he'd felt during the first invasion of emotions, the pride of a father. This deep intense pride had not come from the book; it was Cyril Bulstrode's own feelings so strongly connected to his child along with love and protectiveness. He swallowed having ignored the saliva building up in his mouth. It was a bitter taste. He envied Millicent for having such a loving parent, something he would never get to feel, not anymore, he'd already lost the only man who had come close to being like a father for him. He had no father.

"I'm ok now." He said and pulled his hand away. Away from the book and… away from Cyril Bulstrode.

"The book." Cyril began slowly, masking the remnants of emotions around him. "The spells are gone. I believe you've realized your second ability."

"To destroy spells? I don't think I can use that, it was pure self-defence because the magic invaded me." Raziel stated feeling more calm than he'd ever felt.

"Well you won't know if you don't research it." Cyril responded, eyes following his every movement. "What you did, I guess you realized it now right?"

Raziel looked up to meet the awaiting gaze. "Yes, I felt the emotions imprinted in the book. But why does this ability remind me so much of empathy?"

"Empaths can sense other peoples emotions, that much is true, but they can't sense imprinted emotions in objects and can't… force their own emotions on others. You can. I.. saw your godfather." Cyril at last admitted, looking away. "I believe you've not just read the emotions of the book, but looked at mine as well. Do you think I want to adopt you so I can use you?"

He stared in silence for a moment, before giving a shake of his head. "No, your heart is sincere."

Cyril looked pleased, that barring his heart had at least cleared him somewhat. "Let me ask you again, Simple or Complicated?"

The question no longer confused him much.

He felt strangely comfortable now, near the man he did not know - near a dark wizard - and instinctively knew that the man was much wiser than people that had surrounded him at school, no, like he said earlier, they just lived as '_simple_' people, who did not want to accept anything that could complicate their lives, while Cyril Bulstrode didn't strike him as a simple person at all. Raziel had been like those very people he now despised in so many ways. In a way that was a very egoistical thinking. Admitting that caused a sting of guilt to surface. An _egoistical_ kind of thinking that, _he,_ himself had sinfully committed to as well by fleeing from his own complications as Harry Potter.

Now came the conclusion, when was it acceptable to be egoistical and when was it not? These people who knew him as Harry Potter, didn't know him at all, they only knew him as a person from the front page in the Prophet with many rumours stating that he was destined to save them all. And he equally didn't know them either, but he knew their intentions to some extend, would they rise to help him if he had asked? He wouldn't know, perhaps some would, perhaps they'd reject him, but rejecting them without knowing them wasn't right either. And for the sake of the few who would stand and fight, he had finally decided.

As Harry Potter he had felt forced to face inhuman expectations, to be powerful, heroic and worst of all, lie to himself and hide away his true feelings to fool the world into thinking he was '_ok'_ with it all. Now though he could live far away from that. But he knew, he would still fight against Voldemort, should the man himself personally come and knock on his door and invade his life once again. He would strive to save those he could, but he would do so in the shape of Raziel, not Harry Potter. As Raziel he wasn't the _chosen one_ to them, and that in itself was a major relief, a relief that settled in his chest as a comfortable feeling of serenity. He was human and he could make mistakes, and mistakes could sometimes be altered.

"Mr. Bulstrode, I do not know if I could ever think of you as my father, but after talking to you, I feel more clearheaded than I have for the past several weeks and for that I thank you. I think I may be the Complicated kind." Raziel smiled contentedly. "I can be a pretty demanding student and possibly a rash Gryffindor; will you still allow me this chance to learn about the Complicated life?"

"Of course, Millicent has always wanted another sibling; we'd be more than happy to have you in our home." Cyril said, once again regaining the youthful smirk of young Slytherin, before added. "Although you may be a lion, at least as a Parselmouth can still communicate with us snakes."

Raziel chuckled, looking forward to learn more from the snakes, suddenly the thought of the teasing, mean Slytherins in school had gotten more pleasant. He would assimilate at his best abilities and continue to retain part of his original self.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Cyril was brimming with happiness these days. Although it was certainly awkward having another wizard living under his roof all of a sudden, it wasn't uncomfortable; Raziel had eagerly agreed to study the Bulstrode family's history and already finished reading their ancestors book like a true member of the family, the very book that had days prior been unreadable to anyone but a blood-related Bulstrode, he was a bit sad that the spells that had been centuries old had now disappeared but in the end, he had nothing to hide from Raziel.

"Can you show me where to find that book you mentioned? I want to read about _Rahlin the Sagacious_ he _is_ my ancestor after all." Raziel mumbled, his mouth full of bread, during lunch. He really should start teaching the boy the pureblood manners… And _fast_ if he was to save this case. "_Sagacious_, that word makes him sound like a saint, doesn't it? Did people know he was a Dark wizard? Cyril, are you listening?"

Cyril's eyes widened. _Why was the boy in such a rush always?_ "Actually, according the information I've gathered, I don't think anyone ever found out whether he was truly dark, or light. It was said he used dark spells, but he had many close acquaintances who were light wizards to the core."

Rahlin the Sagacious was in fact, _Rahlin Zuine_, Raziel's ancestor and the part of him that belonged to the Zuine family. He wondered if Raziel had inherited the man's quirk for strange names seeing as the boy had picked quite a unique name for himself, did the boy even know what meaning his name held?

The boy had lived here for a mere week, no not even that long, five days, in fact, but they had already tested several potions and rituals to show his ancestry, they all showed strong connection to the Peverells from James Potters side of the family. The connection to the Zuines however had not been proved, until yesterday. It was a spell of his own creation that revealed the boys connection, even. Cyril was happy that his research had given birth to such a unique spell.

Raziel had watched in wonder as a few drops of his blood had turned into a tree of light in the middle of the living room. The tree was like a copy of 'the tree of life' where he had of course seen, Lily Evans Potter and her sister Petunia Dursley. Petunia's name was glowing blue, indicating her status as Squib as he'd first assumed, while Lily's name had glowed a bright green indicating that she had been in possession of quite an amount of magic herself, although not any Zuine abilities.

What had surprised Cyril the most was the fact that the son of Lily and James Potter in the Tree of Life had taken on the name Raziel Zuine Peverell and not kept the birth name Harry Potter, as it should have shown, it was strange indeed. Cyril had used this spell on many people before, and he had seen their real name, even if they had later changed it to something else, the Tree of Life always showed their birth name. Another thing had him worried as well. The child's name wasn't blue, or green. It glowed a bright purple, and he, yes Cyril was terribly disappointed, but he didn't know what it meant, purple was close to blue, which indicated Squib of course, but also close to the colour red that indicated - if his assumptions were correct – magic power of a Lord-level wizard.

"Friends with Light wizards? I wonder if the families acquainted with him still exist and who they were." Raziel pondered to himself as his eyes fell on Millicent. "Hey, school is starting in a few weeks right? Have you bought your books and new equipment yet?"

It bothered him greatly, it was obvious the boy wasn't even close to being a squib, and magic, even magic _not_ his own, seemed to follow after him. Cyril had on the boy's request started teaching him Occlumency – with the excuse being, that other wizards could read his mind, but Cyril knew, that even if they tried to read the youths mind, they'd have a hard time doing so, he was a brilliant Legilimens himself, and entering Raziel's mind was painful. The magic in the boy had lashed out at him since his first meeting with him. He didn't need Occlumency to keep his thoughts private; he needed Occlumency to make sure that they didn't feel his magic, it would unnerve and scare them and rumours would spread. He wasn't sure if Raziel was aware, but he had waited and observed for a while now. Tonight he would tell the boy of his worries, he owed him that, he didn't want to hide things from his newest family member, and Raziel should know now while it was nothing serious.

He had secretly performed an oath to himself promising to protect the boy as if he was his own, and he knew as the spell's chains had settled around him that he would pay with his life if he ever hurt the boy consciously. Raziel might not see him as a father and probably never would, but none of that mattered.

"I got the books send over, but I need to pick up the new robes at Malkin's today, want to come with me?" She sent Raziel a knowing grin. "Your robes should be done too, right?"

A smile broke out on his as his eyes fell on Millicent, his daughter had strangely enough welcomed the strange boy without a question, he'd also told her who he was and explained a few things, such as the boy's line-age, with the permission of Raziel of course, and she had sworn under an oath of secrecy to keep the knowledge to herself. Millicent had only on the first day exclaimed '_Harry Potter can't possibly be my brother…_' Then the idea of the former chosen one, and boy-who-lived living under their roof had changed to '_the long lost pureblood, Raziel'_ and she could look past the fact that a Gryffindor was currently residing in their house. Millicent was bold, a trait he himself valued, but she was trustworthy once she decided on something, she would stick with it.

His trust for his daughter was boundless, no one knew but Millicent was a brilliant Occlumens and Legilimens like Cyril, of course. And Harry's – Raziel's secret was safe with her. The Bulstrode's took great pride in loyalty to their family, and Raziel whether he would admit it or not, was now part of their everyday life, he was family.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me. I'll come in a minute, wait for me." Raziel said, thanking Cyril for the food and apparated to his room probably to dress himself more suitably. God the boy, apparated everywhere he went these days, and the popping sound was always a good starter to one of his headaches, but he was relieved that, that it had started to become quieter, he almost hadn't heard the apparition today.

Cyril had given the boy a temporary robe with the Bulstrode crest on the back, as identification to any pureblood sensing the boy. If something happened to Raziel they'd know who they were dealing with and he would make sure they suffered greatly.

He had yet to show off Raziel as his adopted son to the other Purebloods but noting that the boy seemed to shy away from strangers, had made him decide against holding a party yet. It would have to wait till next week.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

She tried to hold a grin off her face, but couldn't help but laugh as Potter had walked into the dining room, towards the fireplace.

Potter was a mess like always, she couldn't believe she'd been afraid to be in a room with this person just a week ago when he'd come to their house. More unbelievable was the fact that this was also Harry Potter, but she had to admit, the snappy Gryffindor attitude that had annoyed her for years, was gone, he had changed, and he even used her first name as if they were close. It irritated her a bit, but she had also understood what her father saw in the boy, she would treat him better, she told herself still trying to convince herself that this was just '_Raziel_' not Potter, but it would take time, she knew. People didn't change their opinion of someone in just a few days, even she couldn't do that.

He was in no way her brother; she couldn't suddenly start calling him brother or treat him as family just because her father wanted the Chosen one to feel at home. He was still in a way her enemy, but for now she had made a peace-treaty with Harr…Potter. And she had to admit, it wasn't half bad at times to have someone around the house, her own age, sometimes she'd even dared herself to wonder what her thoughts of him would be if he hadn't ended up in Gryffindor. She was certain he'd be a Slytherin then, he had a sharp tongue when he was really pissed and he no longer let his anger burst like a Righteous Gryffindor, he was silent and calm and calculating, letting his bitterness out by other means, like practicing wandless magic.

Envy wasn't a new feeling to her, but she really felt stupid sometimes when Harry was practicing magic so eagerly and with devotion she could never understand.

"You look like shit, remember to brush your hair and learn some darn fashion sense, you dress so clumsily, do you want people to look down on our family?" She scowled and she walked over fixing his clothes. She did not do this to be nice. She did this simply because she could not allow someone who was supposed to _appear_ as her brother to look like a scruffy man in public, she couldn't allow Potter to soil her family name.

She threw the floo powder and stepped into the flames and appeared in Borgins and Burke's awaiting her clumsy brother's arrival, thankfully however he landed gracefully this time and she didn't have to brush off his clothes for him.

"I have to say, Millicent, that I rather like the fact that you don't change your opinion of me so easily. You're so very honest. I appreciate your effort in trying to accept me into your life and I truly hope to be friends in the near future." Potter smiled. He was smiling, and Millicent stood stunned for a moment, anger welling up in her, he was again using her first name when they were alone, it was against their agreement and she would punish him later by working some serious pureblood manner into him.

Or perhaps the punishment wouldn't have to wait so long after all, she smiled brightly as she greeted her schoolmate.

"So nice to see you, Draco."

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

_Such a bloody horrid day. _He thought grimly to himself.

With a mother on the edge of breaking down any second and the never-ending fatigue following weeks of constant hide and seek, under the scrutiny of the ministry with the reporters and random pedestrians stretching near necks to stare at him so obviously, Draco Malfoy was _not_ in a good mood, and rightfully so.

_How dare they!_

A hand reached out and gripped his shoulder securely, Narcissa's hand. The woman looked even more tired than him these days, but only he could see the dark shadows looming in her clear blue eyes. She didn't want this either; who could ever live under the condemning stares of strangers - _disgusting_ degenerates who could not possibly claim to have the slightest grasp of his situation, much less his family's circumstances - and still be sane?

Thankfully the attention of reporters were soon directed somewhere else. And their article had been almost forgotten in the flurry of breaking news concerning, their _saviour_.

_Potter ran away. Thank you for being a coward, Potter._

Anyone who couldn't see the truth was pitiful – never mind the fact that he had personally witnessed the dark lord's burst of rage upon learning that there was no trace of his former classmate. How had he managed it? Even Dumbledore had no way of explaining the boy's disappearance to the hungry reporters, when they had ripped what information they could from the leader of the Light. Draco was definitely enjoying this.

Dumbledore's pet had finally torn his leash and run away from it all. The world was bloody naïve and while people were panicking, he found himself leaning; laughing at the absurdity of it all.

He felt slightly sympathetic for his old rival. The Malfoy's had _fallen from grace_ with _one_ article, while Potter for years had dealt with _several_. Bad publicity had seemed like a normal, grey day for Potter; how his enemy could have carried the burden so silently – up until now - without resisting and still have the energy to fight back was beyond Draco.

Harry Potter had left; his arch rival had left this _forsaken,_ useless world, and he couldn't even blame himself for it. For once, Potter had stood up for himself. It had been the _clever_ choice; he knew then and hated himself for not having had the strength to resist his own fate more vehemently.

_Curse you, Potter. I bet you are you laughing at me somewhere out there; I bloody hate you for making me feel like this._

"Why did you let him mark you? Isn't it enough that he already has your father under his feet; I just don't understand; how could you accept it?" His mother had been distraught when he had returned with the mark a few days ago, and cried, _cried_ in anguish over her son's inability to show the sadness that was unhealthily-caged inside him by a thin veil of haughtiness.

"I won't let him take my son!" The blonde woman had frantically-scratched, ripped, and pinched at the mark; but to no avail it was burned into him, tied to every nerve, to every cell of his body; it was permanent, and he knew it had come to stay as a painful reminder of how weak he had been.

He gripped at the robes of his left arm, clenching around the part that bore the mark. It burned day and night, blazing with emotions that weren't his own, but was forced to witness. _Anger, Joy, Pleasure, Rage_ - These feelings were so simple, like a child's.

".." He winced as _rage_, not his own, welled through him, and he wondered if this was how the rest of his life would be like.

Despite knowing that it was eternal, his mother had tried every spell possible to remove it. She no longer wanted interaction with the dark lord to persist; she wanted such evil gone from her life. Draco had felt tightness in his chest, a lump of regret, but he wasn't as strong as Potter; he could at least admit that, now. His hand gave a weak twitch as he tried to keep his hands from shaking.

The dark lord had wanted his mother to bear the mark, but he had willingly offered himself in hers and his father's stead; even though his father would eventually return, the dark lord had given him a task and he would accomplish it, like a good servant, a good marionette doll. _Because there was no other way_.

Giving the mark a last squeeze as if to will the pain away, he quickly pretended to brush off some dust from his cloak. He could smell some strange whiff in the air as he straightened his posture.

_Chrysanthemums?_

"So nice to see you, Draco!"

Draco hid his split-second flinch as he turned to greet his classmate, with a small smile plastered to his face, as his eyes fell on familiar green, no blue eyes. Repressing his initial surprise he quickly searched for Millicent who stood next to the familiar stranger. Why had his eyes been unconsciously drawn to the stranger instead of his recognizable?

"Greetings, Millicent," He said, quietly acknowledging her presence with a quick nod.

"Mrs. Malfoy." Millicent spoke and made a quick bow of her head.

Quickly shooting a glance to his mother's side he was surprised to see how calm she looked. She looked almost happy as she was looking at the boy at Millicent's side.

"How is Cyril doing these days?" Narcissa said with a weak smile; her eyes still drawn to the stranger.

Draco quickly masked his worry as he fought to keep his eyes on his friend. He didn't like it. Things he couldn't explain were uncomfortable to him, and he felt very much like he was caught under a spell like the day when he'd first seen this stranger in Madam Malkin's.

He couldn't be anything noteworthy, after all, Draco personally knew all the powerful wizards and witches among the purebloods – at least from the dark side - and this, whatever he was, was definitely a outsider, and anyone he didn't know, couldn't possibly be of any importance; that's what he'd led himself to believe.

Before he could push the thoughts away, another question forced itself into his mind as he sauntered towards his acquaintance, a serene expression forming on his face. Why was this guy with Millicent, a fellow pureblood of a family of unbroken purity, belonging to the small yet powerful society of the superior bloodlines?

"Father is currently busy preparing a small banquet for next week when we'll make an announcement to the public." Millicent grinned and winked at him. Draco knew that look; it was her _I-know-something-you-don't _look, "I'm sure you should receive invitations anytime. I hope you can join us."

The wizard next to Millicent fidgeted uncomfortably at her side as she said this.

"We look forward to that," Narcissa smiled sweetly and looked as if she would continue had his curiosity not taken over - Draco wanted answers and he wanted them _now_.

"Millicent, it's been some time hasn't it. What brings you here this late in the summer break? Usually you have everything settled and ready for the new terms within the first week." Draco said in his practiced tone, implying innocent wonder without being too bold to be called rude. It was merely curiosity for a comrade after all.

"Indeed, it's not like me at all," Millicent responded quietly staring back in her usual bold manner, before her head turned to the man next to her with a weak smile as she placed her hand on his shoulder in physical gesture that was absolutely absurd among strangers. Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, she knew this man, and well enough for skin ship, a rare occurrence among the purebloods. She looked back at him with gleaming eyes before continuing, "However I'm here mostly on behalf of my _younger_ brother. I guess I should introduce him; this is my brother Raziel Bulstrode. I believe it's time you've met." She ended with a smirk, fully enjoying his look of utter confusion.

Draco felt like she'd thrown a bucket of cold water at him, revealing this up-until-now unknown morsel of enlightenment. It was a disgrace! Why had the Bulstrodes kept such a large secret hidden from the world?

He felt turmoil ravaging his insides as he fought to stay calm. An heir? A male heir-? What family would in their right mind keep such a blessing hidden?

A male heir meant more power to the Bulstrodes, so hiding it would make no sense at all. The other purebloods would crave explanations for this, Draco knew. It was an unwritten rule, to announce a family's members to the public; all members. He still clearly remembered his own public announcement when he was a mere brat, but no one had been announced this late. How old was the boy? Millicent had clearly said younger, so that meant, perhaps a twin…or was it a bastard boy?

Maybe it was a bastard, whom they had finally taken pity on. Not so surprising that they would have hidden such a secret. Also the wizard in front of him looked nothing like Millicent, from that he concluded that the Bulstrodes must have finally wanted a male heir so bad that they were willing to let a bastard inside their ranks.

Draco sighed in relief.

He should have considered that option sooner instead of freaking out. A bastard would still be better than a female heir for some, he thought to himself as he warily allowed his gaze to fall on the bastard son of the Bulstrode's, wrapping his emotions tightly behind a mask of amusement.

For Millicent's sake he would treat him with the proper respect.

"Nice to meet you, Raziel Bulstrode, I believe I saw you earlier this week at Malkin's, if my memory doesn't fail me. I'm Draconis Lucius Malfoy." He said with practiced elegance as he held out a pale hand. Raziel was staring awkwardly at him for a moment before reaching out to meet his hand.

The other's fingers were long and lithe like a musician's, and the skin - though not as pale as Draco's - had an almost fair, subtle glow as uniquely pale a complexion as the rest of the flawless skin covering him.

Draco felt a shiver through his body as the man took his hand gently in his, and for a moment he fought to remember how to breathe.

He could smell _chrysanthemums_. As to why was his senses being invaded by the scent of flowers, he had no clue.

The hand that had looked so cold was actually very warm in his own cooler hand. It felt like a healing touch, almost, because, for a moment, he could ignore the painful ache that had previously caused such tremor in his body. Now, there was nothing, and he felt no reason to resist the painless world surrounding him.

"I believe not, Mr. Malfoy. I don't remember seeing you before. Perhaps you just saw someone that reminded you of me? Either way, it's a… _pleasure_ to meet you," Raziel said suavely, eyes silently watching him intensely, and he ignored the building heat in him as he looked up from the hand still connected with his. Firmly locked in a gaze as the voice of the Bulstrode son rang in his ears in its elegant softness, he finally noticed the deep blue and emerald, green eyes and wondered why he hadn't noticed before.

Draco blinked confusedly as if in a daze, not quite taking in the words spoken to him right away. He wheezed softly only to realize that Raziel had retracted his hand with an almost Slytherin-like smile on his face.

The Malfoy heir resisted the urge to growl as reality kicked in once again.

The wizard before him had indirectly insulted him by refuting to having met previously. Perhaps Raziel had ignored his presence then. He felt a stab of anger, not so much for not being remembered but more for the fact that _he_ remembered Raziel while the other had thought him part of the _background_; in other words, not worth being noticed.

He hadn't felt such bold humiliation since his last meeting with Potter. Why did this boy irritate him so alike the way Potter had done it?

Narcissa, who had watched Raziel with a studious expression as if she had carefully taken in every detail of his handsome face, finally spoke up. "Raziel, is it?" Her eyes showing nothing of the nostalgia she felt at watching the piercing eyes, which now held hers captivated, "I know this may sound strange, but your face is quite familiar to me."

Raziel's eyes narrowed and he looked strangely awkward now. Millicent however permitted herself to speak up for her brother.

"As you may have guessed, he is my adopted brother," She explained, strangely calm with the situation.

"Adopted? Is he a mixed blood?" Narcissa suddenly pushed, unable to hold back till a moment later she comprehended with horror what she had asked, "I'm sorry to ask something so personal-"

"You know how my father is. He specializes in reading the tree of life. Raziel here is a pureblood with old families behind him, _but_ they are no longer in this world. That is all I can say. I hope you understand, Mrs. Malfoy. If you come to the public announcement, I'm sure you'll understand," Millicent finished apologetically, hoping the answer was satisfying enough to keep further questions unspoken.

Draco caught the look in his mother's eyes, and gently tugged at her arm in warning.

With a last glance on Raziel, he turned to leave.

A pureblood. An adopted pureblood. Something was about to change, he knew, and it would start with Raziel.

He would not tell the dark lord of this.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Squashing down the remaining pain from Malfoy's touch, Raziel gave a sigh of relief as the blonde was dragging his mother away insisting that he needed something. He felt bizarrely thankful for that, even if Malfoy hadn't noticed his discomfort.

Millicent's gaze was now distant and unreadable as she watched them walk away. Her hand switched between clenching into a fist and stretching out as if she longed to hit something.

"Remember, Harry Potter no longer _exists_. Not from _this_ moment on. You won't be going out again until the public announcement is over," She said her voice lower than a whisper, "Not if you want to stay out of battle."

He arched an eyebrow at this. "Battle? What battle?"

"Not _here_, not now; I'll explain later. Please just trust me," She mumbled shooting him a quick glance, her honey eyes piercing mercilessly into his as she shamelessly grabbed his hand and dragged him off towards the tailor.

It seemed Miranda Malkin was for some reason excited to see him again, seeing as she nearly forced him to try on his new garbs at the store, only nearly though. In the end, he decided to just go with it when she wouldn't take no for an answer, and he knew from previous experience that she took great pride in satisfying her customers.

"I'll be waiting outside, so hurry," Millicent said as she plopped down on the nearest chair in the waiting room and pulled out a new book she had bought on the way.

Raziel wondered if her lid would flip had he told her he couldn't care less how they looked on him. Really, but then again it was better to be on the safe side. He wouldn't want to deal with a uproarious woman now; Millicent was more than enough.

Miranda had made two sets of formal robes; she informed him as she went to fetch them with long quick strides. He heard the rustling in the neighbouring room as she scrambled to hold onto all of it. The clothes were covered in a white paper-like material as a means to keep dust and filth off of them.

"Try on these first," She said as she pulled off the white covering off one of the robes.

His face must have scrunched up for a second from the nervous look Madam Malkin sent him, but he recovered quickly. "Err… Turquoise? That's rather… eye-catching," eye-catching as in come-here-and-look-at-me.

"You don't like that colour? You did say blue and green so I thought a mix of them would be OK, and it brings out your eyes more," She quickly explained.

"Oh...I see. Well, it'll do," Raziel muttered, trying to hide his distress. Exactly what he wanted to avoid. These clothes would make him stand out, while Raziel only wished to blend in with the surroundings, "What about the other one?"

The second robe was much more to Raziel's liking; it was a full body-length, black robe that seemed to hug the form of his shoulders almost protectively. The robe in itself was plain as it did not sport a lot of colour, embroidery and detail at first glance, and it would be true if not for the fact that it was made of shiny black silk – giving it an overall sleek appearance - and was rimmed with silver thread matching the colour of the inside, delicately lined with a silky-smooth silver tinted fabric.

The fabric fell loosely around his body and seemed to flow around him like a shadow clinging to his body in waves as he moved about. With the silk robe followed a pressed pair of pants of a rougher fabric and a thin loose-fitting shirt of a strange greyish creped material he hadn't seen before; it looked very light, so light, in fact, that he was afraid to rip it when he put it on.

"Whoa, why is it so heavy?" He asked, trying to get used the creped armour-like shirt. It was solid in a way one wouldn't expect, but the way it cooled his skin under it made him think almost of metal for a moment. He was surprised to find that despite the coolness, he didn't freeze at all, in fact it was very cosy.

"This is not just a formal set of robes; its temperature will change to fit yours. If you feel warm, then this shirt will feel cold on you; if you are cold, it will feel warm. Very neat, right?" She said triumphantly, waving her hands to exaggerate her enthusiasm. "It's been some time since I was so absorbed in a piece of cloth. There are over thirty spells on that one, I assure you; I felt drained for the rest of the day. It's heavy simply because of the amount of the magic spun into it. I hope you can pay for this, dear. You did ask for enchanted robes for travelling, am I correct?"

"Don't worry, I'll be quite happy with this, thank you," Raziel assured her and wasn't surprised, nearly paying five hundred galleons for it all. Of course, it was still the most expensive clothes he'd ever bought.

He signalled for Millicent to follow him with a quick wave of his hand, setting off towards Flourish and Blott's.

"Why do you need to buy books? You said you wouldn't attend Hogwarts," She asked puzzled.

"And I'm not looking for schoolbooks," He clarified, "I'm looking for, what they _wouldn't_ teach us in school."

"You're worse than a stuck up Ravenclaw, you know that?" she chuckled, before stopping herself a moment after to resume her practiced Slytherin stone face.

"You should smile more, Milly. It might change the Slytherins reputation a bit if you did," He commented teasingly.

"Oh, I see nothing wrong with our reputation, but of course a Gryffindor wouldn't understand that," She huffed indignantly, showing mock hurt, "You have no idea, how it is to see you boisterous lions acting up over a small thing like idiots. I smile if I feel like it, as it should be. A smile is precious; I will only smile for people who deserve it. _No one_ is happy all the time. Neither am I, but that doesn't give people the right to just carelessly assume I must be '_pissed_' or '_angry_' if I don't scrunch up my face all the time like you people."

"All right then, I feel treasured already," He laughed, as Millicent huffed angrily, from her little speech. "I was wondering also… why do Slytherins smirk all the time? I mean, you do it constantly."

Millicent rolled her eyes, with her here-he-goes-again look. "Gryffindors roll around the floor in laughter when entertained; Slytherins smirk. You should try smirking too, smirks are sexy, and dirt from the floor is not."

"I never did that," He scowled.

Outside, Flourish and Blott's came into view between the many giant, sombre, dark-purple posters that seemed to dye all of Diagon Alley with its depressingly, dull colours. The Ministry had started advertising wherever they could. The oversized letters of advice and tips for protection against Voldemort, Death Eaters and Inferi, were blinding his view with its bright, white tone among the mass of lilac.

"As if a few protective wards can keep Voldemort out," Raziel grumbled, almost surprised when Millicent didn't have the usual physical response – like jumping half a meter from shock - to the dark lords name that every other person had.

She just sighed, nodding. "They just want it to appear as if they have it under control. With _Harry Potter_ gone and the darkest wizard of all times roaming the country, lies are the only thing that can keep people in check. Poor fools."

Oddly enough, Raziel didn't feel guilty at the mention of his old name anymore. He could now openly speak as if it was someone else. No, in his mind, Harry Potter was now a non-existent person. He didn't believe in prophecies and if people didn't start taking it serious soon, he knew before long the death toll would rise drastically. Raziel knew up until now, only a few murders had been reported.

No doubt, Voldemort himself was in a fit of anger caused by his disappearance and now vehemently searching for him all over Britain.

"You should get this one," Millicent said with a solemn look plastered to her face as she held out a book. '_Impression magic_: _Control your Aura and intimidate your enemies'_.

"Very funny. You want me to frighten people? Perhaps the Death Eaters will run away if they see me?"

"No silly, I'm dead serious. Just ask father. You literally reek of something strange, and even managed to make my head dizzy on a few occasions," She said hesitantly as if it really bothered her, "With this perhaps you could change that aura of yours to something useful."

"I reek?" He pretended to lift his arms and smell himself, only to anger her a bit. "I don't smell anything; I just took a bath this morning."

"Don't pretend you don't know about that foul stench of Chrysanthemums that's hanging around you like a thick blanket," She growled, eyeing him with an annoyed look, "I wonder why people haven't stopped you on the street to ask you what potion you used to gain that scent already. I certainly saw some stare and giggle like hens. It's like you're a walking perfume bottle and its gross!"

Raziel arched an eyebrow not sure whether to be upset or not.

I smell like flowers? When did that happen…

"OK, OK, I understand but would you drop the claims that I smell like a girl already. I hate perfume and I really can't smell anything myself. Perhaps you smelled someone else-Milly- hey wait!"

Millicent had grabbed the book and was already at the counter paying for it.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up with an indecipherable expression. "I'm buying you a gift, of course, since you are too embarrassed to get it for yourself. I know it's late, but you weren't with us on your birthday."

"You shouldn't," Raziel spoke, "I don't need any gifts. I'll buy it myself."

"No, you're my brother now; I'm allowed to give you late gifts," she said sternly, "Oh, close your mouth and stop gaping at me like a fish."

Raziel closed his mouth fast with an unsettling feeling in his chest. For a moment, he was reminded of when Molly Weasley had told the Order that Harry was like a son to her.

"Don't you dare reject it. It's a great offense to a pureblood if you don't accept their gift," His sister sneered, giving him a look that was far from what you should use when presenting a gift to someone.

"I-..err…Thank you," he faltered.

She gave a small smile. "I think we should go through some pureblood manner when we get home," He nodded, then Millicent said, "Home it is then."

"So, how is it without your daddy at home to buy you new brooms and spoil you rotten, Ferret?" came the stomach-turning voice of Ron Weasley behind him; Millicent's mouth twitched in distaste at the sight.

Draco looked around as if to check his mother wasn't in the vicinity before turning to the revolting, ginger boy.

"He'll be out soon enough, Weasel. So, try not to pee your pants when you finally see each other again," Malfoy spoke coolly remaining untouched by Raziel's old friend's taunt, "I hear you suffered quite a loss as well, Potter was it? How does it feel to be abandoned by your master?"

"Harry didn't abandon us, he was kidnapped, you filthy maggot-!" Ron's face had gained an unhealthy shade of burgundy as he fumbled to pull out his wand.

"Keep convincing yourself, Weasel. I actually sympathize with Potter this time. How hard it must have been to spend five years with the likes of you as his friend," Draco continued, ignoring wand pointing at him.

"Shut up filthy Death Eater spawn! _Papulus_!" Ron screeched and without warning a bright purple curse shot towards Draco. Instinctively, Raziel stretched out his hand as if to block the curse, even if it was over twenty feet away. A transparent, but deep blue shield formed in front of Malfoy who had taken a few steps back in surprise, and the curse sizzled against the shield a second before it rebound and sprung back in Ronald Weasley's face.

"RON!"

He watched in shock as Hermione pushed through the crowd of people who had gathered, and pulled Ron off the floor. He hissed at what he saw. The redhead's face was covered in bright red, puss-filled pimples.

Draco broke out laughing loudly at the nasty sight, and blended in with the crowd as he left a horrified Ron sprawled out on the floor with a yellowish, cream-like substance running almost freely from his face, as new pimples appeared only to grow and explode again. People backed away soon when after they found out the 'explosions' could hit them.

"We're leaving," Millicent had a firm hold on his arm as she dragged him out of the store, "I won't scold you, but using magic in public can get you revealed way too fast, especially wandless magic."

Raziel said nothing as they walked to the nearest available floo with a steady pace. He was trying to come to terms with the fact that he had caused his old friend, or ex-friend, Ron such humiliation, and he felt sick for a moment, knowing that some part of him had wanted to laugh like Draco had.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair, at least the first ten minutes, until Cyril had asked about their little trip to Diagon alley, to which Millicent gave a small cough.

"We met the Malfoys. Raziel got his dress robes and even tried them on at the store. We went to Flourish and Blott's but only got one book, before the whole store was crowding around Malfoy and Weasley's public duel that ended with Ronald Weasley spraying puss everywhere," She finished off without hesitating, not at all bothered by her own words.

Cyril almost choked on a piece of pork chop. "Not at the table."

"You asked," she responded sweetly.

"How are the Malfoys? I heard the last month was tough on them," Cyril asked, before wiping his mind with a serviette.

"Okay, it would seem. I mentioned our banquet next week, and Cissa seemed delighted. From her interest in Raz, I'd say we should expect them to be there," she told eagerly.

"I see," tapping his fingers on the table, Cyril looked over at him.

"Raziel, meet me in the library in an hour. I have some things to inform you of," Cyril said in a solemn tone of voice, making Raziel cringe a bit, "Don't worry I won't eat you."

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

He landed on the ground with an undignified thud as he tried to scramble out of bed, in his haste to turn on some light to see it better.

_It_ was grey.

_It_ was paling.

_It_ was not hurting anymore.

An overwhelming sensation overcame him, and, for a moment, he felt an unexplainable ecstasy; he knew the Dark Mark had been affected.

Only this morning it had shone a bright black on his skin, but not anymore; it had lost some colour and was becoming less visible on his skin. His bond; his chain; his connection to the dark lord was weakening.

And it gave him hope, knowing that it could…maybe disappear. For good.

Coming down from his high, the blonde buried his face into his pillow and breathed in.

Only one last thing was on Draco's mind as sleep took him; the scent of _Chrysanthemums. _

* * *

_______________________________________________________- End of Chapter Two -_

This is now former chapter 3-4 combined.

_______________________________________________________Read and review. _

_______________________________________________________Next chapters should be more interesting than this one hopefully, for example there's the meeting with Kunx and the public announcement. Cyril reveals his identity to certain individuals, and Malfoy realizes who affected his mark, etc, etc.  
_


	3. ϟ Veil of Night ϟ

**Full summary:** At the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites and a new face, Harry decides to flee, believing that people count on chance to save them too much, it's time for them to wake up to reality and the fact that their _saviour_ might not necessarily choose to save them after all, it is time to be _Dark_. With Harry Potter gone, their world is thrown into a frenzy of panic and uproar, just the kind of distraction needed for a new unknown pureblood, Raziel, to make his appearance without bringing too much attention to himself. Slightly Dark!Harry. Eventually Powerful!Harry. HP/DM**  
Rating**: **T** for now but **M** later.  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own, don't sue.**  
Pairing**: Both slash and Het. Main will eventually be _Draco/Harry_ but for those against slash you can consider this a Harry/no one fic, coz I'll be placing slash warnings for each chapter_._  
**Dedicated: **favfantasy, randy13, JtheChosen1, Shishiri, loves-unwanted-qeen, Justlookingforupdates, Necro Regulus, invisiblelace, Kawaii Yashie, itachisgurl93.  
**A/N: **Ok this is **10 + k words** guys, it's a weekend special, but I'm really tired now and it's 4am here now and I just finished it. There's still no response from the beta, so here's another chap full of flaws and bad writing ^^''  
**Warning:** 2 deaths, but no gore.

* * *

**Tenebrae Aeternae  
Chapter Three  
-_Veil of Night_–**

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

A caravan of indefinite silhouettes marched tirelessly under the moonless skies, leaving no trail of their passing, and no living creature could ever have overtaken them. Not far behind lumbered giants with fixed stiff-legged strides, huge bare feet digging into the slushy soil beneath.

Light flared somewhere ahead in the murky horizon, revealing a transparent bridge. The bridge stretched from the hilltop, leading the troop past the waterfall to the dark triangle shaped minaret, standing proud in its seemingly impenetrable state on the enchanted cliff hovering midair.

Impenetrable, it would have been if not for the absence of it's cloaked guardians, the Dementors.

Azkaban was in itself a great network of passageways and corridors, magically entwining - _interweaving_ - some ending blindly into nothingness, others simply infinite. The infamous Wizard prison was in reality the perfect labyrinth, created to utterly flummox anyone without a map to the place, there had been stories, of wizards escaping their cell. It was nothing new, it had happened before; they escaped their cell, but walked around in the eternal maze for days, weeks – no record of months yet - until they had fainted from exhaustion and ultimately the Dementors had sucked out their souls when on the verge of certain death.

Only one Wizard had by own measures escaped this death maze, the misunderstood Sirius Black. Years later, upon the dark lords return, more outbreaks had come, and the wizarding world had blamed it on the Black to calm the public, refuting claims that it was the dark lords doing.

Any other person being held responsible - than the dark lord - was the _better_ justification, for the sake of keeping their world in a false bubble of security.

Inside a cell sat a ruffled man, with his arms hugging his knees to his chest while shaking silently. The lack of windows only adding to the feeling of isolation now etched into his pale face, no longer defined and proud but sunken-in and sickly.

At the sound of the heavy metal door's squeaking hinges, no movement was made, only silence followed, until a hissing broke it.

"Good evening." The blonde man stirred but did not turn around, aware that his Lord was standing closely behind him. "How goes it with you?" He looked down at the huddled form in the corner, sagged against the grey wall, a smile playing about his lips. "To think it would take even less than a month in prison to reduce you to, this state, my dear Lucius."

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

An idiosyncratic magic hung in the air and like a thick blanket, it heated up the room to allow its master a peaceful rest as restoring his energy would mean he could wake up and play with his magic all over again. It liked being used, and the more its master used it the stronger and more faithful it grew. It was currently hugging every curve of his body securely, not allowing the slightest blow of wind entering the room to disturb him.

With his head resting on the table in the corner library was Raziel soundly asleep among stacks of books, hands clenched securely around a piece of parchment. '_Impression Magic – Control your Aura and intimidate your enemies_.' Laid in front of him, ajar on page two hundred and thirty-one, the chapter was titled '_Blend in with your surroundings'_. His eyelids fluttered as someone pressed his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Magic instantly flowed from the boy and cooled the intruding hand on his body and it retracted almost as soon as it had touched. He failed to hear the sharp intake of breath from the other.

"Raziel, did you stay up all night again?" Cyril asked rhetorically.

The youth shrugged his lissom shoulders and answered inattentively. "Perhaps. I don't remember."

The Bulstrode had come to ask many questions about Raziel's life as Harry Potter, unabashedly admitting that he wanted to understand his adoptive son better, to which Raziel had with a slightly raised eyebrow undergone an oath of secrecy, an unbreakable vow, with Millicent as binder.

The older wizard had not treated the vow as a sign of distrust but rather as a step forward in their bond. He had sworn that he would never repeat a word without Raziel's permission to do so. The oath had no consequence to him, as he had no plans to deceive.

After that, Raziel relaxed around him more and words had flowed like a waterfall as the boy began to express his life, describing the not so sweet life as the _Legendary_ Harry Potter. A much more detailed version of his experiences that, no book or third party could provide.

Cyril had listened for hours, not daring to break Raziel's concentration; afraid that the boy might stop talking the moment he did so. It almost reminded him of when he'd first come to term with the introvert inside him. As a child he has always loved hiding away in his family's library or some silent corner of the mansion where he could undisturbed by the world around him simply _read_ and fantasize, living into the role of his favourite character, whether it was as the legendary vampire slayer from the middle ages, the archaeologist who uncovered many of the secrets behind Egypt's ancient pyramids or _now_ – although in a different way - as a famous child wizard whom, from Raziel's description, no one had really understood.

Raziel seemed to appreciate not being interrupted as he went into depth about his first meeting with Hogwarts' gate keeper, Hagrid, to his cousin's pigtail, the philosopher's stone, the diary and Tom Riddle's basilisk that had petrified several students at school, that believed him to be the offender, because he had unconsciously spoken to snakes in the middle of a duel.

"_It was hard enough being stared at all the time just for being pictured in children's books as the slayer of Voldemort making me famous even before I could speak for myself, after that I was suddenly 'the next dark lord' they all hated me, because they were afraid." Raziel had said.  
_

Being able to synchronize with the storytellers feelings shining so obviously through, made Cyril incredibly sad, angry and surprised, that someone so young had to carry so much, if he didn't know any better he would have sworn that it was the boy's truth sight that showed him the emotions linked to every memory and not just his own.

When Raziel had come around to his forth year, after telling about the godfather he never realized he had, the mood had lightened a bit until the moment the Goblet of Fire had sprouted his name, and he once again had to deal with the hate of not just the whole school, its foreign guests and their headmasters but also his best friend.

"_Ron, who had always been a great support and my best friend suddenly accused me, not just for wanting to show off but also got mad because _I didn't share my secret of how to bypass the age line, _it was so ridiculous_._ I could endure the hate of the rest of the world and still smile, but when even my best friend showed such distrust in me, I was really hurt. I had expected better of him. Although he apologized later saying that I would have had to be crazy to put my own name in the Goblet and that he had been wrong, something in me remained destroyed. I began keeping some things for myself after that, I no longer felt I could share everything with him, I didn't want him to accuse me again."_

Raziel had pulled up his right leg and was now hugging it as his back hunched slightly while he explained how Voldemort had returned and the death of Cedric Diggory and the Priori Incantatem between his and Voldemort's wand.

"_As I mentioned earlier when I told you about my first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, my wand has a twin, Voldemort's. That's why his killing curse and my disarming charm failed and turned into Priori Incantatem instead, twins can hurt each other but never mortally wound and kill the other, instead one of the wands' spells will be forcefully called back, depending on the will of the wizards, with the help of the people he had killed I forced his curse back into his wand and then I broke the link while the after mirages of his previous kills surrounded him. Then I summoned the Goblet to return to Hogwarts with Cedric's body."_

His expression grew more detached as he talked about last year, about meeting the order, briefly describing their expected secrecy and hesitancy to let him in because he was a child, but for good reasons leaving out names and other details.

"_Once again the whole school treated me like a big fat liar with delusions who sought fame, because the Prophet - at that time - strictly controlled by Fudge posted all those articles about me being a deranged attention-seeker who had become obsessed with his own fame from defeating Voldemort. No one listened to reason and not to mention the ministry's interference, they installed that horrible Umbridge as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. She allowed no magic in class or school because the ministry believed Dumbledore was creating an army of students. She also gave me detention very often for 'lying'. This-" The boy looked at the back of his hand only to slap himself mentally for forgetting that it had been Harry Potter's scar and not Raziel's. "Never mind. Anyways, that eventually led to the making of the DA club that I secretly taught in the room of requirement."_

Raziel had hesitantly described his dreams, his _visions_ of Voldemort, about Arthur Weasley and the forged vision of his tortured godfather caught in the Department of Mystery, the fight - the prophecy with his name that the Death Eater's had sought so bad - the arrival of the Order and the death of his godfather, his own enraged chase after Sirius' killer and cousin Bellatrix Lestrange and finally Voldemort's and Dumbledore's late entrance. His expression grew pained and the air around Raziel had become chilly as he told him this.

"_After many fruitless attacks on Dumbledore, he finally turned to me. He possessed my body knowing that Dumbledore wouldn't harm me. I was at that point highly unstable and greatly weakened, my mind was full of hatred triggered by Sirius death which only served to make it easier for him to take over. For some reason he couldn't stay for long though, it was painful to him to stay in a body so full of the feeling he despised, love. That was Dumbledore's explanation, either way. The minister arrived to see Voldemort leave the scene with Bellatrix on tow. Well the rest you can guess somewhat. Fudge was forced to realize that Voldemort really _had_ returned and I was sent to the Dursley's over summer after a... verbal battle with Dumbledore."_

Cyril had watched Raziel in silence for a minute or two digesting what he'd been told and also knowing that the boy needed a small break to return to normal. The older wizard had finally asked the questions left on his mind. He asked him if he believed the outcome would have been different if the Order had let him in on everything.

"_I really… don't know. But at that time, that's what I believed. How come you didn't ask about the Prophecy?" Raziel had inquired suspiciously eyes still glazed with deep sadness. _

_"Because you don't want to tell me, also, it doesn't matter now, you aren't Harry Potter. That prophecy isn't the only possible course for you anymore, right now you're on a different path and it might, no longer apply or have any consequence to you. In the end it's your choice if you want to sacrifice yourself or not."_

_"I didn't tell you the prophecy included sacrificing myself." Raziel stated matter-of-factly._

_"I know part of the prophecy already. Enough to know that it demands sacrifices." Cyril said,  
offhandedly._

_"How come you speak Voldemort's name but also often refer to him as 'the dark lord' I always thought only Death Eaters used that title." Raziel had pondered out loud, stirring a sudden anger in the dark wizard._

_"First of all, I refer to him as the dark lord only in public because you never know who might hear you." _

"_Secondly, it was the light wizards who gave him that name and they couldn't possibly tell the difference between a true dark wizard and Voldemort, even if you yelled it straight to their face." _

"_Thirdly, no dark wizard with respect for his allegiance should ever acknowledge Voldemort as a lord for the dark, because he disregards the true meaning of being dark. He doesn't have the smallest inkling of knowledge or appreciation for our customs. He only brings shame to all dark wizards and it's truly sad to see naïve dark purebloods stick to him like a moth to a flame simply because of his power and ideals to destroy anything, not dark, which in itself is very hypocritical." Cyril had huffed indignantly, as he ended his rant and Raziel had just stared at him wide-eyed, then broken into a smile saying he had no doubt about Cyril's opinion of Voldemort now._

"Why are you here, isn't it still early?" Raziel turned a questioning gaze on Cyril for a moment before once burying his head in his arms, ready to sleep some more. "I'll skip breakfast."

The still sleep-drunk youth in front of him had proved to be an enigma despite now knowing most of the boy's past. Raziel was a confusing combination of fighting brilliance and _at times_ absolute control, but that control were not working so well when the child was asleep, as he could tell from the dowsing heat in the library around the boy. The magic was almost alive in the air, and struck at anything touching its possessor. Something the young wizard had learned to control, at least while fully awake.

Surprisingly, Raziel seemed able to weigh every move he ever made in the scales of daring stratagem and indisputable morals.

"Indeed, but I suggest you go to bed or you won't be fully rested for our next lesson, _tonight_." Cyril said worried that the eager boy would study himself to death if he kept up his current pace. In but a few days since he returned from a short trip to Gringotts, he had done nothing but reading and practicing. Cyril would be the first to admit that the boy had great potential, there was no doubt in that, but he had become more serious and solemn and it worried him greatly.

"Really?" Raziel said now all ears, with his newly piqued interest, as he lifted his head for a moment.

_Typical_, Cyril reminded himself. The boy had taken the bait. If there was one thing that could catch Raziel's attention it was private lessons, and of the few he had already given, the boy had sucked in the dark knowledge like a thirsting human who'd gone without water for days.

"Yes, now go sleep, you can eat later." Cyril said sternly and watched pleased as Raziel scrambled to get up and walk out of the library, however after a few steps the boy had stopped and sighed as if he'd forgotten something, before summoning his magic expertly and apparated soundlessly.

Really _typical._

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

The sharp rays of sunlight was reflected in the colossal mirror that covered a whole wall at the other end of the room and he could see his toes poking out under the sheet feathered duvet almost covering his face.

He often found himself slipping completely under the duvet in the middle of the night, enjoying the feeling of being buried in softness and even though it was summer time he never felt too hot under it, it was heaven. It hadn't been in the beginning though, he was used to the hard mattress at the Dursley's.

The four-poster bed at Hogwarts had amazed him he remembered but this bed was in a whole different league, the first time he had slept here it had reshaped under his weight, so soft that he had for a moment wondered if he was falling through, when he sank into its heavenly suppleness.

Inhaling deeply, the fresh sent of newly washed sheets, he decided it was time to roll out of bed, something that was getting harder and harder. That was why he regularly slept at the library or other places instead of in the bed because at least then he wouldn't sleep more than six hours at most, here he had slept ten already it was late in the afternoon now, he knew.

Stretching his body like a cat he went for the closet, picking out a set of light everyday robes. The clothes almost slipped through his hands like water when he tried to dress himself and he uttered a low growl.

_Silk Satin._

Quickly shedding the shiny fabric he reached for something with a rougher texture, all the while missing his muggle clothes.

For a moment he'd forgotten where he now lived - In a pureblood's home, where everything had to scream extravagance – At the Bulstrodes stately home.

They were a far cry from mediocre and he wondered if upbringing in a mansion like this would have turned him into a copy of Malfoy. He shuddered. Arrogant twat.

His eyes fell on the dark leather bag under his bed and he went to open it delicately, after casting a locking charm on the door with a quick wag of his hand.

In it was a bundle of documents and a medium sized box. Reaching in, he pulled out the almost weightless box and studied it closely. What it was made of he still had not figured out even though he had now been in possession of it for a total of five days, he was getting impatient. Kunx had shrugged his shoulders saying in wasn't his inheritance so he wouldn't know how to open it, when Raziel had pleaded.

He'd snuck out to go to Gringott's for his meeting with Kunx, much to Millicent's distress and she had been mad enough to almost throw a book at him when he returned. He had not meant to worry her, if she really had been worried about him, but he had made a promise to the Goblin after all and even gone out with a cowl, avoiding eye contact with the people on the street.

The goblin had cackled at him saying that a cowl only made him more suspicious-looking and that he'd be better off not wearing it at all, making Raziel feel slightly foolish. Kunx had nodded approvingly as he gave up his true name and led him to two different vaults. Much to his surprise no key for these vaults. Instead the vault gate had a hole in the middle. The goblin told him his arm was the key and should fit perfectly into the hole.

Raziel without questioning the goblin's knowledge put his left arm right in. In doing so he felt a strange magic take hold of his arm so he couldn't pull out. Kunx had teasingly told him to stand still if he wished to keep his arm intact. He didn't take too kindly to the late advice when he had felt something pierce his wrist, it was a small prickle but the pain was not a joke.

"Don't panic human, if you are not the heir it will tear off your arm." Kunx had said darkly. "These vaults are at least 400 years old, locks like these are not made anymore, sad thing really, they were banned because of their rather violent ways of keeping non-related people from entering, it's old but powerful blood-magic, right now it's identifying you, so don't resist."

"And you didn't see it fit to tell me of this before?" Raziel had asked panicking as the magic pulled and tugged at his arm. It had grown increasingly more painful every second and the lock had managed to pull in half of his upper arm.

"You didn't ask, you just went ahead and did it without questions, maybe that should teach you to think before acting." Kunx had commented deviously. "Treat it like a valuable lesson, young one. When you walk out of here, even if you don't have your arm anymore, perhaps you'll be that much wiser."

He had been about to use foul language when finally the pain stopped and the magic pushed his arm out violently.

The bloodied mark had unexpectedly not been hurting at all. The blood running freely glowed like liquefied ruby as it had withdrawn into the open cuts, and the wounds closed leaving only a white mark, almost not visible in his already pale skin. Its shape was that of a triangle and there was a circle inside it, divided in half by a straight line.

"This is the key, the proof that you are the successor." The goblin had exclaimed triumphantly. "The mark of Peverell, now whenever you wish to enter here all you must do his put in the arm with this mark and you'll be able to enter, without pains."

Placing the box on the floor, he was about to resign to failure as his arms started hurting from the mere memory; the Zuine family vault had had the same lock system as the Peverells, much to his horror. He traced the mark on his right arm, the mark of Zuine absentmindedly. The mark looked sort of like on of those eyes taken off of an Egyptian wall painting and he had never seen a crest with an eye before. The many history books he had read over the past two weeks had not included any mark representing the Zuines at all.

He sighed about to pick up the box again, feeling a little persistent today, he was curious and it was killing him.

Ever since his return from Gringotts he had only learned two, no three things; He was now filthy – no _extremely_ filthy, dirty, disgusting rich - and he had four houses he couldn't claim till he was of age, and, he had gained two new scars to make up for the one lost. No. Nothing big. This was the epitome of normality.

Never could he have cared as little as he did now. He had just left not even bothering to ask how much money there was, he was certain there was enough to live in a hotel and pay for expensive take out everyday for the rest of his life, should he ever get tired of living that was.

Then there were the legal documents in the bag, the house deeds, showing no sign of moulding or decay despite how old they were and he could now immediate confirm the preservation spells cast on them with a light touch. Cyril had now let him identify various spells on their family's antiques through his truth sight, and he was slowly getting the hang of his new magic. A strange feeling was linked to the document he remembered. The feelings etched into the legal documents were happiness, a familiar happiness he couldn't quite place.

There had been no pictures included, just written description of locations, date they were built, size and maps showing the rooms, previous owners, what wards and spells they were protected under, security passwords, how-to-guide on how to bind with the wards and get acknowledged as the master of the house, etc and the list went on. But none of this made him any happier, he already was horrible at using money, he couldn't do it, and he certainly had no need for not just one but _four _future homes that from the size in the description might be castle size if they were put together.

Nothing could interest him, nothing at all… except for perhaps that medium-sized black treasure chest he had found among the mountains of ancient galleons in the Zuine vault. He had every day since his return stared, glared, chatted, fumbled, petted, rubbed, kicked, dropped, and almost gnawed at the evil box. Evil because it was tormenting not knowing what was in it. He scowled at the box a few more seconds before he once again put it down and gave up for now.

He had better things to do than fight a centuries old box that wouldn't open to a damn thing he did. He'd even gone as far as to use a pathetic _Alohomara_ charm on it, of course that was after throwing it into the fireplace only to see the flames go out like he'd thrown a bucket of water on them.

All in all he was very disappointed, as he unlocked the door and went down for dinner.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

A sweet smell came from the cauldron as a pale hand plopped in some hellebore and immediately started to stir it counter clock-wise for a good half minute, before coming to an end. He let it simmer by itself as he went to fetch an empty bottle or two.

As he poured the potion something grey sped over his shoulder and knocked down his glass with dragon scales. Black eyes narrowed as he reached for the little troublemaker. The potion master's eyes narrowed as he resisted his urge to strangle Pigwidgeon for a moment till he noticed the small leather pouch tied to the owl's claws.

Ronald Weasley's useless owl had finally brought something useful, not that it excused the owl's destructive speed-control. He noted to himself to assign the redhead many detentions in the upcoming school year for this.

He took the pouch and waved the foolish owl off.

After putting cap on the potions he walked to Dumbledore's office with hastened strides. He wasn't running, he was just walking a bit faster but still with a grace no one could imitate.

Snape pondered sourly under his practiced emotionless mask, if the headmaster was still staring silently into the nothingness as he had done earlier this afternoon.

The Leader of the Light, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot had in the past two weeks not spoken much, he had either been out or he would sit in his office re-living memories in his pensieve, hopelessly looking for clues regarding the missing _hero._

"Come in, Severus." Came a dull voice.

Sadly, as expected the headmaster looked weakened, tired and slightly resigned in his golden chair, behind a messy desk. Formerly, twinkling blue eyes were now dreary and had lost their vividness.

"I have good news to bring today." Snape spoke calmly as he observed the way the old wizard's magic came to life for a moment inside the dull blue eyes. Dumbledore looked up expectantly.

"Did they manage to gather it?" Dumbledore inquired immediately.

"Yes, here it is." Snape pulled out the pouch from his pocket and placed it on Dumbledore's already untidy desk. "It was all they could find between the rubble."

The headmaster opened the small pouch and shook out a small bundle of something black.

"Contact the Weasley's and thank them for their hard work, I'm assuming you have the potion ready?" Dumbledore looked better as he rose from his chair.

"Yes, and I also made some of these." Snape handed over the Pick-me-up potions. "Thought you could use some extra energy."

"How very thoughtful of you Severus." Dumbledore smiled as he threw a handful of powder in the fireplace. "The plan will commence the day after tomorrow, we cannot afford to wait any longer or the killings will continue. Please send hand the letter on my desk to Cyril Bulstrode; I heard you would be going to his banquet tomorrow. I'll be back later."

And with that, the Headmaster disappeared into the green flames, leaving behind a smirking potion master.

Finally things would change.

In desperate times, desperate measures were needed.

Snape picked up the letter for Cyril Bulstrode and left.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

Holding himself stock-still, he reached out to every corner of the hallway, pin-pointing the almost non-existent feel of magic, of the approaching figure sneaking up behind him.

A smile spread on his lips as he felt the force of the other's magic tone down even further, now at the level of a very weak wizard. He wrapped his own magic away and took some quick sharp strides in the shadowed passage, diving into comforting shadows of his study, a room without windows.

Let him make the first moves, he thought taking this chance to judge how the boy would react, though able to feel his presence he was now unable to see Cyril.

"_Serpensortia_!" A blast of magic slipped out from under the boy's shields as an eleven feet long monster-sized snake spotted Cyril in the darkness, immediately lashing out to bite, if not for the older wizards nimble body that dodged in time, biting back a growl as the snake destroyed his desk.

Had this been a normal duel he'd have already disarmed his opponent but battling a wandless wizard was something entirely else.

"_Advertere_!" Cyril hissed sending the deep red spell at the snake as it was about to strike again, it halted and turned towards Raziel who now stood in the door opening surprised when the snake slithered towards him ready to strike, but a soft hissing soon filled the room and the snake bowed its head as if to greet him then vanished into thin air.

The boy had used Parseltongue, Cyril knew and decided to use the boy's magic against him. "_Vindicta_!"

The particles of still dissolving magic flew together at the child like thousand projectiles.

Raziel smiled as he chanted. "_Ad noctum_!" and disappeared into a cloud of darkness.

Cyril came out from his corner with a scowl. The boy learned much too fast. "Come out, ok? The battle is over."

When Raziel didn't appear he swung his wand at the wall to the left.

"_Rictusempra!"_

The boy's veil fell and he fell to the floor in fits of laughter, from the tickle spell.

"You can't escape that easily." Cyril grinned as he towered over the shape of the boy, still writhing on the floor while laughing like a madman.

"_Finite incantatem_!"

The tickling sensation stopped and laid Raziel panting on the floor trying to regain his breath. Raziel looked up at the man, from his position on the cold tiles of marble for the first time taking notice of how young his guardian looked. The man was standing tall before him, imperial topaz eyes smiling with amusement as were the thin lips curled into something between a smirk and a smile. Shoulder-length chestnut hair curled elegantly around his face as he bent down to give Raziel a hand.

"Next time stop when I say so and I won't have to tickle you." Cyril said nonchalantly. Raziel let himself be pulled up from the floor and started dusting off his silk-soft robes, sad that he'd dirtied them so fast.

"How did you see through the veil, is my magic still too noticeable?" He wanted to know.

"You lost focus when you thought I couldn't find you, conceit will bite you in the ass so keep your focus on your task even if you're almost invisible." The dark wizard said. "This is especially true for you, one slip and your magic will flow to reveal you."

"But I'm already meditating every day." The youth muttered casually.

"Want me to test your shields?" Cyril offered.

Raziel stared for a second before responding. "Ok, second let me just-"

"Your enemy won't wait till you're ready." Cyril muttered darkly as he reached for the boy's mind. He felt no pain as he did so, no magic assault and he was met with many shields hidden behind a layer of mutable thoughts, revealing nothing.

"Are you trying to hide all of your magic on purpose?" The dark wizard complained as he withdrew. "It's too suspicious if you outwardly show magic less noticeable than a five-year-old's then suddenly possess the magic of a strong wizard. Take down a shield now."

Raziel obeyed and let a shield drop as he watched his guardian touched his mind again, and he forced himself to relax to allow the other entrance to the forefront of his mind, where no secrets laid hidden.

"This is too much magic though, or… could you try to keep that shield down and stay like this? Since you're pureblood they won't be so surprised to only feel this." The other muttered, still observing the flow of his magic. "Try to making a shield." Cyril frowned as he failed to comply. "Not an occlumency shield, a spell."

"_Scutum_." Raziel whispered as if speaking normally would overdo the spell. A deep blue shield unfolded around him all the way around, lingering in the air and when it didn't show sign of dissolving anytime soon, he neatly called it off with a quick gesture of his hand.

"Hmm. Much better. Keep it like this and don't attempt to shield any more magic away, if you overdo it you will need to remove your shields for every spell you use, and then people will know for sure that you are holding back." Cyril broke into a smile and turned to look at the clock. "You may go now, but don't stay up too late. I don't want you still sleeping while the guests have already come."

Raziel's face flushed a bit. "Right."

"Oh, and take this with you, even if you don't use it, at least carry it with you tomorrow." He got handed a thin white container, the surface was smooth under his tracing fingertips. "Goodnight."

Inside the case was an eleven-inch duelling wand in mahogany.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

As Draco landed gracefully outside the open floo, he was met with a welcoming hall, decorated with illusion magic, creating beautiful scenery all around. Most of the guests seemed to enjoy the wall to the left with the fake aquarium, where fish swam over the wall playfully chasing one another. Hovering candles were lighting up the enormous room where people quickly gathered in small groups conversing with their familiars about business while other's made light chit-chat and compliments about the Bulstrodes grand home.

The whole house was now filled with the sound of joyous chatter and laughter within a few minutes, even though they had all come in good time. Investors, Aurors, department leaders of the ministry, wealthy pureblood families mostly, or to put it simple, everyone of importance was present, but first all, essential _dark_ wizards.

His mother came up behind him, dressed in a light pearly white dress, hugging her frail form gently. She smiled at him looking better than she had in weeks, and Draco was happy that she had forgotten her sorrows if only just temporarily.

Off to the back of the room was a raised stage, musical instruments played themselves, controlled by the jerking gyrations of a corn-blonde-haired, wand-wielding wizard in black dress pants and claret waistcoat. Each time the instruments hit a crescendo, the wizard let sparks of light explode from his wand.

"Draco!" The blonde didn't get time to react before a dark-haired witch had thrown herself at him. It was Pansy Parkinson, Draco noted as he allowed her to hug him for another moment before wrenching free of the iron-hold. "I didn't think I would get to see you before the next term, how has your summer been?"

"Fine, thanks. And you?" Draco inquired politely, trying to sound amused as Pansy started to talk like a waterfall, but it was hard, his attention wasn't on her.

He was much too busy scanning to room carefully. So far there was no sign of the dark lord's death eaters among the guests – except himself - much to his surprise. He had expected the dark lord would have heard of this gathering and send in a man or two to check up on it. He was always looking for new recruits either way.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

Raziel was fully dressed in the black and silver-lined formal robes from Madam Malkin's but he had come crawling back into his room after casting a fast glance at hundred or so people gathered downstairs. Cyril had said it was just a few friends of the family but this, this not just a small gathering!

"Raz, come out already, people are starting to question where you are. We need to introduce you to them." Millicent called through his bedroom door.

"You lied, you know how much I hate huge gatherings like this, I thought it was a quiet dinner with perhaps ten people, but this… " Raziel trailed off, not knowing what to say. All he knew was that he was scared, scared of that crowd of strangers.

BANG

A small explosion smashed in the door; luckily the sound was drowned by the noise of laughter and music from downstairs, echoing the buzzing of a hundred guests.

"Come here you cowardly Gryffindor." Millicent dragged him out into the hall to see him better and immediately started grabbing at his hair to sort out the mess a bit, before pouring a small amount of liquid from a bottle she kept in her pocket. She massaged it out it his hair while keeping him locked in place so he couldn't flee. "You need to stop this chicken behaviour it doesn't suit you, put up that aura I showed you in the book I know you can do it."

"Y-yes." He found that he couldn't come up with any more excuses as he grudgingly followed her down the stairs, masking his terror expertly behind occlumency shields and cloaked himself in a scintillating aura of radiance.

His whole being radiated confidence, strength and amusement as a benign yet serene smile formed at the edge of his lips. Raziel was no longer his unconfident, shy self his aura whispered persuasively in his mind as it overflowed him with a remarkably calming sensation he hadn't known he was able to feel for himself.

Many eyes found him quickly as he descended gracefully from the staircase, with confident steps and sauntered across the large room to join up with his adoptive father, currently in chat with an unknown wizard, who watched him silently, a mischievous smirk at his lips.

"Oh, Raziel, let me introduce you to Kaspar Blackwell, the Blackwell heir, the Blackwells are one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain." Cyril introduced his recognizable making sure to use his flattering tone, and Raziel instantly knew what that meant.

"It's a great honour to meet you Mr. Blackwell, I'm Raziel Zuine Peverell Bulstrode." Raziel introduced himself melodiously, with a gentle bow of his neck as he kept smiling sweetly all the while taking in the appearance of the other.

Kaspar looked young and wasn't older than twenty-five, he could confirm from the youthful smoothness of his face, framed by ashen-blond, medium-length, straight hair clashing with vivid azure orbs. The other watched him intensely.

He felt the prod against his mind and pretended to be unguarded, only letting the man see his sincerity, and squashed down the sense of relief that washed over him as the man broke his stare with a bent of his neck, before greeting him with equal respectful tones.

"It is nice to finally see you, Raziel Bulstrode, you don't mind me calling you just that do you? I almost feel I know you already, my dear friend has talked much about you and in such praising tones as well." Kaspar said.

"I don't mind." Raziel responded, maybe a tad bit too eagerly, but when he turned to look at his adoptive father he only saw a smile and knew he had passed the first, of many introductions. This was simply a test and he would overcome them all.

Cyril excused them and started dragging him around among the curious - some resentful and rude – stares of the guests.

It wasn't long before he had memorized a great list of family names from the introductions, some he remembered better than others, such as the old but talkative and bubbly witch from the Addison family or the nervous Ravenclaw boy, Alan Dewitt who was slightly younger than him and with a somewhat familiar face.

Soon he talked animatedly with all the curious wizards and witches who approached him, always holding his façade with a paint-on welcoming smile. He found that lies – scratch that, perhaps lies was too hard a word, he only really twisted the truth a bit after all - flowed innocently from his mouth as he told them that he had been forced to grow up among muggles because his magical parents had died, which was mostly the truth anyways, although Petunia wasn't actually a muggle, but in fact a squib. Luckily it seemed everyone knew that the Zuines and Peverells had been extinct for some time so they instantly believed him, or most did.

There was many arrogant faces watching him sceptically but he could only ignore them. The hardest part was when he saw someone very familiar stride towards him, black eyes twinkling dangerously; it was Severus Snape, Dumbledore's man.

"I believe it is time we got introduced, don't you, Raziel Zuine Peverell?" Snape said silently, no amusement in his face, only scrutiny. Raziel flinched a bit as he forced himself to meet the eyes of the legillimens who had failed so bad at teaching him occlumency as Harry Potter, while his guardian, Cyril Bulstrode had taught it to him within weeks.

"I didn't mean to neglect you, I've heard a lot about you from the others though, nice to meet you, Severus Snape." He said as he let the name roll off his lips with an irresistibly urbane undertone. Snape's eyes widened a bit involuntarily, before the returned to normal only a split-second later.

"Likewise, Mr. Zuine. A most unusual upbringing you must have had, not knowing you were a pureblood, while so many would give everything to be of blood purity, trying so hard to gain acceptance." Snape said severely, voice tinted with a bit of… jealousy?

He couldn't imagine why Snape should be jealous of him growing up among muggles.

"My muggle guardians were quite twisted and often starved me, while working me like a slave, I wish I had not grown up with them. Abusive muggles can really destroy your sanity, I'm glad I retained mine." He finished off with a smile as he strode towards the open door, leading to the gardens.

He really needed some fresh air.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

The cool air felt nice against his sore cheeks, smiling so much for such lengthy amounts of time was painful and his aching face muscles wouldn't agree with him anymore, if he didn't soon get a short break.

"It's hard isn't it?" A voice broke his train of thought. "Smiling and nodding like doll, while acting like you're comfortable with the whole thing even though in reality you simply want to get away from their scrutinizing stares and horrendous laughter.

Raziel spun around as he saw a strangely familiar shape come into view, walking up to him with a glass of wine, in each hand, he could smell the alcohol hanging around the other and noted his slightly slurred voice.

"For you." The other said as he handed him a full glass. "It'll help you relieve some of that tension, mate."

"…Thanks." Raziel muttered as he hesitantly took the glass and started sipping at the faintly dry wine. He sensed nothing strange about the wine and continued to sip, and before he knew it the glass was empty.

"No prob. You were that thirsty huh?" The stranger grinned as he plopped down on a bench nearby. "Can I ask you something." The drunken male slurred.

"Sure, go ahead, can't be worse than other questions people have asked me tonight." Raziel said as he walked over to sit down as well, not bothering to look at the person next to him.

"Do you agree…with the dark lord's methods?"

Raziel felt his heartbeat speed up a bit at the sudden question. If this person was a death eater he couldn't simply offend his lord in front of him, but he couldn't pretend to agree with the dark lords behaviour either.

"No, I'll never kill for blood purity." He simply stated and was relieved when the other chuckled, before he could stop himself he had asked back. "How could pureblood families stoop as low as to kill for their belief? Why do they follow a half-blood, no matter how powerful he is, if they truly believe in blood purity?"

The other froze, and then sagged back into the bench.

"Because of our parents' mistakes, we are threatened into joining him or he will destroy everything we have." The other deadpanned. "Not all join him to destroy. As soon as you are marked, the ministry won't listen to you anyways and you will be a prisoner of war with no means of defending yourself, quite honestly the twisted sense of judgement from light wizards in the time of war is much more frightening than anything the dark lord has done to us."

"Hmm, so you are not a willing Death Eater?" Raziel poked as the alcohol blended into his system, lowering his guard.

"If I could get rid of my mark and live safely with my mother then yes I would not follow the dark lord." The other stated.

"Can I see your mark?" Raziel asked finally turning to the dark shape next to him, and he noticed the blonde hair and he bit back the shock wanting him to call out the blonde's name to confirm.

"Mmmh," The other hummed and let his arm fall into Raziel's lap. Although the mark was barely visible in the dark, he found the greyed tattoo, and traced the lines curiously. "Tickles…stop stroking it so softly."

He increased the pressure and covered the marked skin as he unconsciously lapped at the dark magic reacting now violently to his touch.

"What are you-?"

"Shh, I'm taking your mark." Raziel whispered, now sure the other wouldn't harm him. "If you don't really want to serve him, you shouldn't have to."

He heard a sharp intake of air as the boy next to him slouched back as if he was hurt, and without warning Raziel had wrenched the last bit of the Morsmordre mark out of the blonde next to him.

The other seemed to sober up a bit and suddenly pulled back his arm, now frantically tracing the unmarred pale skin of his left arm with awe and confusion.

"Y-you really took it? What did you- how?" Malfoy exclaimed unable to believe that he was no longer a Death Eater, his mom would we so happy.

"I just undid it, that's all." Raziel muttered unconcernedly before gritting his teeth a bit feeling a small headache on its way, if the pounding in his head was anything to go by. He heard a sudden sniff and pushed away the onslaught of pain as he looked up at his old enemy. Malfoy was crying silently.

"T-thank you." He heard under the faint sniffs.

"You're welcome." Raziel said suddenly feeling awkward, he hated when people cried near him, first Cho, now Malfoy, it made him uncomfortable, but he was glad to see that even Malfoy had feelings, aside from arrogance and hatred towards anything different from himself. "Are you ok?"

"Do you understand just what you have done?" Malfoy asked perplexedly, as his sniffing had come to an end.

"Yeah, either you owe me a life debt, or you become my subordinate because I freed you from your former master's service. But really Malfoy, you can just do whatever you want. I have no need for your service." Raziel said, casually feeling a tinge of pride that he had started to memorize his pureblood manner.

"I'm afraid I can't accept that." Malfoy said, eyes now dry but softened from his emotional let-out. "But firstly, I think you should go back inside, I felt the presence of Death Eaters earlier and it would be stupid to sit here by yourself out in the open like this."

"What-?" Raziel said horrified. "But why here?"

"Because Voldemort wants you, why else, now go in!" Malfoy now looked slightly hysterical.

"No, I-" Before he could finish he other had his arm in a firm grip and was currently dragging away with him. "Stop, this isn't necessary, I'm just a normal wizard, and he won't come for the likes of me."

Malfoy was at the door and now insistently gave him a hard push forcing him into the mass of people. Several windows exploded and glass flew everywhere.

"See!" Malfoy yelled. "I told you. You're safer here, go get Cyril, fast."

Wind gushed into the room and screams were heard as three whirlwinds of darkness landed in the middle of the crowd

"_Semoveo!_" One of them hissed and a transparent wall caught him away from the others.

He was caught in a bubble with three Death Eaters and no one would be able to help him.

"You will be coming with us, little boy." One of them stepped forward, face covered by masks, like the Death Eaters' in the department of Mystery had been.

"Why should I? What's the meaning of this, I am not your enemy am I?" He muttered darkly, as his head started pounding again. God he was so tired and he didn't want to deal with this. When would this ridiculousness stop?

"Correct, but you aren't an ally either." The second Death Eater walked up next to the first. The third Death Eater remained impassively in the background, and eventually laid down, showing no intention to fight.

Anger rose in him like a giant viper ready to strike, when suddenly his headache got worse, why, he couldn't fathom, but his anger made his head thump painfully.

"Please… Just leave, I have no interest in you, there are too many people here." He pleaded, feeling sick as the pounding continued persistently.

"Let's just stun him and get it over with." The first Death Eater laughed loudly. "_Stupefy_!"

"_Scutum_!" He murmured, pained. The sapphire shield absorbed the curse greedily."

"Get him! Get him! He can't even flee stop being so pathetic, Macnair!" The second Death Eater screeched, somewhere inside his pained mind he recognized that screech, it was Bellatrix Lestrange, he knew that for certain now, and where he had before held back, her taunting voice replayed in his mind, like a broken film.

"_Come out, come out, little Harry! What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!...Did you love him, little baby Potter?_"

_Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to _mean_ them, Potter. You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won't hurt me for long — I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson — Crucio!"_

Raziel's eyes flickered shut as he heard Bellatrix yell. "Crucio!"

And the next thing he felt was a twist of pain, worse than he had remembered ever feeling it, as the Cruciatus curse made him crowd together on the ground writhing in pain.

Inside the mass of pain he eventually felt numbness spread instead. Why the bloody hell did he have to be so useless? He pondered again as he let his mind sink away from exhaustion.

"Ohhh, wittle baby couldn't even take one wittle curse." Bellatrix laughed, mouth opening as wide as her jaw would allow, in a long insane laughter. "The dark lord doesn't need this scrawl in his army, let's kill him here!"

"No, Bella, we have to bring him back, alive." Macnair growled menacingly. "GO! Take Lucius he's useless in this vegetable state, I'll take the boy."

"Stop being such a w-ahhhh"

"_Dolor unda_."

As Macnair turned to counter whatever had been cast but was already blown away by an invisible wave of pain similar to the Cruciatus curse.

Upon landing on the ground, like a limp rag, his eyes fell on the boy, now standing slumped over and scarcely standing.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

The green light of the killing curse flew just an inch over him and dug into Bellatrix' chest like a glowing spear of perfection. It was grotesque, sickening but overall so very perfect. The remaining Death Eater could only hear the strangled cry and the heavy thump as the body dropped dully behind him. He'd seen death so often, that he could no longer feel fear or dread upon seeing people die, even his allies it seemed.

He watched the boy absentmindedly again as he walked towards him with heavy steps, looking as if he was about to fall over any second. And as the wizard came closer he felt it. The boy was covered in it. It was a thick blanket of excruciatingly forceful magic that made his head spin.

He saw and felt the iridescent light surrounding the boy, so very light, so very dark, and his bones _crunched_ inside his body, crunched as the boy sat down next to him, lips twisted into a serene smile, and the crushing pressure of the child's magic _held_ him, _felt_ him, _understood_ him and lastly _consumed_ him.

The soulless eyes watching him, bored, all the while his lifeforce scattered. And Macnair knew.

He was just food.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

Draco watched in horror as one of the Death Eaters had used the Cruciatus curse on Raziel, but a foreboding warned him, as he felt something crack, and magic flowed freely, so much magic that it made the bubble expand.

And he watched horrified as Raziel without looking up, fired a emerald green curse, the killing curse, at Bellatrix Lestrange.

It was not that the boy had used the killing curse that frightened Draco. It was his eyes. There was no soul in them.

Raziel limped over the other other Death Eater and the whole room, or the remaining people who had not fled stared in wonder as the boy seemed to pull out the dying man's magic, taking it, making it his own and finally falling to the ground, soundly asleep.

* * *

**-_ϟ_-Tenebrae Aeternae-_ϟ_-**

* * *

- To be continued -

I changed my writing style a little, perhaps...dunno if this chap was ok or just, really really bad. .

Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for your reviews on last chapter, they were the reason I managed to type out a 10 k chapter = ) They made me really happy.

Enjoy your weekend.


	4. ϟ Linking the Pieces ϟ

**Full summary:** At the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites and a new face, Harry decides to flee, believing that people count on chance to save them too much, it's time for them to wake up to reality and the fact that their _saviour_ might not necessarily choose to save them after all, it is time to be _Dark_. With Harry Potter gone, their world is thrown into a frenzy of panic and uproar, just the kind of distraction needed for a new unknown pureblood, Raziel, to make his appearance without bringing too much attention to himself. Slightly Dark!Harry. Eventually Powerful!Harry. HP/DM**  
Rating**: **T** for now but **M** later.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.**  
Pairing**: Both slash and Het. Main will eventually be _Draco/Harry_ but for those against slash you can consider this a Harry/no one fic, coz I'll be placing slash warnings for each chapter_._  
**Dedicated:** itachisgurl93 , Akinyi222, MidnightRoseIsTheMadDetective , loveGD, Tiliapetiolaris, Clint, Reithandina, Analei, Yami-Taichi, Necro Regulus, DJFireHawk, JtheChosen1, Katsy17, adenoide, sunny smiles, sexy fox 101, Lilia0, Cazzylove.

Thanks for Your reviews, made me happy to know that you like it so far. From next chapter onward it will be a bit more Drarry focused.**  
**

This chapter is raw and unedited so bear with me if you meet the occasional spelly, here goes.

* * *

**Tenebrae Aeternae  
Chapter Four  
- _Linking the Pieces _-**

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

"…_his bones were crushed_…"

Darkness cradled him almost endearingly, like no parent ever had, putting his mind in a state of absolute peace. It was around him, within him, with him, united, they were _one_.

"…_can't show their bodies to the Aurors_…"

_Who is talking_?

A fraction of him wanted to know that, but that was all it was, a _fraction_, a _miniscule _part of him.

What was it he wanted to know again?

The thought had vanished, like a snowflake on a summer day, but he saw no reason to wonder why.

It didn't matter. Was he getting repetitive? Certainly not. He didn't understand how that idea had occurred to him at all; his mind was blank once again.

Nothing really mattered any longer. He could just lie here forever entangled with this comforting darkness cloaking him, loving him, protecting him, as he could enjoy this eternal moment, and he decided when he wanted it to stop. It was his decision alone if he wished to dream forever, his magic would make it happen, it said.

Feeling everything and yet feeling nothing at all, which was it?

"…_monstrous…that magic_… _still glowing_…"

Nearly soundless footsteps merged with the crunching sound of glass shattering below solid shoe soles, tugging at the edges of his conscious.

"…_isn't that of a child_…"

Nimble hands turned his motionless body over and he shivered discreetly as an enticingly cool hand brushed away the wisps of hair from his forehead, which he hadn't known was burning with a high temperature. The cold fingers were bliss, they felt so good.

"…_only one who can_…_touch him…go near him_…"

Fragments of sentences buzzed all around and he just wanted the noise to go away - to cease - to end. Had the world always been such an ear-splittingly noisy place? It was a wonder it had not driven him mad already.

"…_rid of those plagues_…"

"_Mobilicorpus_." A soft voice said. He knew whom it belonged to… he just couldn't care enough to search his memories.

"…._who brought shame to the dark_…"

Now floating, he could feel the air under his body as he passed many spheres of energy. He wondered what they were.

He could feel the shift of magic somewhere around him… there was people… and most of them veiled their magic, like he had, but he could clearly feel them as if there was nothing - no air, no skin - no meat - no bones - no distance - separating them. They were but spheres of magic in his dark world behind closed eyes. He could _sense_ it all. Most of them blended into the darkness, but some lit up. Give him a moment to gather the determination and he would figure it out.

There were two magical people here whose allegiance was to the Light. See? He could use his head if he wanted to. But…

Why were there light wizards here? Or was it…. why shouldn't there be? Did it even matter? He _couldn't_ remember. He _didn't_ _want_ to remember right now, he _didn't want to_ care right now; he just wanted to… do nothing.

_Perhaps sleep some more, yeah?_ The darkness whispered suggestively to him and wrapped him in its tranquillity once again. _Let's both sleep._

And then the voice was no more.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

Bolting awake, something akin to an electric shock bore through his body; he gave a cry of pain. His head hammered in vengeance to his rapid movement as tears prickled from his eyes.

Curled into a small ball, he let the aching in his body ebb out slowly, while gritting his sore teeth.

Mercifully, he couldn't remember what had happened, where he was or how he had gotten there. Wait, he knew this place. He was in his room…

"HE'S AWAKE! DAD!"

…not so alone.

Someone - probably Millicent whose presence he hadn't noticed - had just run out of his room. "HURRY!"

Footsteps were heard, and soon two people came running into his room. Raziel swallowed nervously as a sign of discomfort and decided to pull the duvet up further, if only to shield himself from the intensive starring.

"What's going on?" He asked when his adoptive father only stared at him from the door-opening as if frozen to his spot.

"F-finally you woke up." The usually calm and collected wizard both sounded and appeared to be worn out. "You were giving me gray hairs, boy!"

"Sorry?" He tried, not sure what the commotion was about. "Did you manage to catch the Death Eaters? You saved me after I fainted didn't you?"

From the crestfallen look on the Bulstrodes' faces he could tell he couldn't have aimed further from the truth. Millicent was the first to recover.

"You don't remember? Anything?" She asked, cautiously. "Nothing at all?"

"Of course I remember, Malfoy warned me and urged me inside to keep me safe, but they had already broken the wards, and when Bellatrix used the Cruciatus curse, I fainted." He finished off lamely, disappointed with himself knowing he'd cracked down with only one curse.

"So it wasn't Draco Malfoy who lured you into a trap?" Cyril asked harshly and if Raziel hadn't known better he'd have believed the man's harsh tone to be anger, but this wasn't anger, it was desperation.

"No, he did not in fact he helped me. I removed his mark and then, he warned me, but I didn't listen really so he forced me inside." He confirmed and let the duvet drop a bit.

"Owl Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, about the state of things now, and …apologize." Cyril ordered his dumbfound daughter. "We'll discuss what to do with Lucius when they come. Go!"

Millicent nodded and rushed out the room.

Raziel raised an eyebrow. "What happened…after I fainted?"

"Raziel, you… " Cyril stopped and closed his eyes for a moment before pulling his wand out of his pocket. "Try to call on my wand."

"Why? We never did lessons outside your study before." He wondered.

"Just do it." It was an _order_ and he didn't like it, but he still reached out and called.

"_Accio Wand_!" The wand didn't move. "_Accio Cyril's Wand_! _Accio Wand of Cyril Bulstrode_." The wand didn't move no matter how he rephrased the spell.

"Did you enchant it?" He asked curiously, in wonder. "That's a neat spell, can it ignore disarming spells too?"

Cyril didn't answer immediately; he bit his lip, honey eyes edged with worry. "No, you don't understand, this isn't a lesson, and no spell can make a wand untouchable to magic."

Raziel looked confused for a moment as he digested this. Then looked at the surface of his hand and a wrinkle slowly spread over his usually smooth forehead.

"_Argumenti."_ No water came. Not a single drop. His magic didn't respond and his mind reeled, trying to acknowledge the fact that his magic didn't respond. "S-Squib?"

"_Confringo."_

"_Confringo!"_

"_CONFRINGO!"_ He howled as dread spread like venom inside his system, to every bone, to every cell of his body all the way to his heart. Pain forgotten he hugged himself, and allowed himself to give away, and fall back on the soft mattress as he forced back the poison, and he searched, _searched_ for his core, before madness would take hold. It had to be there, somewhere.

"Stop, don't search for it." Cyril said tonelessly.

"W-why? What did you people do to me!" Raziel yelled as anger welled. Anger so intense that had he still had his magic this room might be no more. But the fact remained, his magic remained unresponsive.

"Calm down, you aren't a squib…you're damaged. You killed a-and…." The older man attempted to explain voice now trembling, telling things like these had never been his strong point.

"Killed? I think I would remember if I just randomly decided to kill someone." He huffed, focusing on his anger. Only anger could hold his sanity intact instead of throwing himself into grief. A month ago he wouldn't have cared if he suddenly lost his magic, but now that it wasn't there, he felt a hole, an empty, bottomless pit. Anger temporarily sealed the hole of desperation and madness, _but for how long_ was the question.

"Listen, you really did it, you…used the unforgivable on Bellatrix Lestrange and then you sucked out Walden Macnair's…magic. Cyril said, leaving out the fact that, sucking out another's magic meant the death of that person; the boy would figure that out by himself soon enough.

"Prove it."

Cyril blinked.

"Show me your memory…" Raziel forced out, already feeling tired, even if he had just woken up.

"Of course, I can give you that." Cyril said as he left the room to retrieve a small pensieve.

Wanting nothing more than to sleep and even if fleetingly only, just forget what he had heard. Raziel scolded himself for denying a possible truth, it was outrageous, though, to think he of all people would kill, he had always assumed he wasn't capable of killing, that he didn't bear enough hatred in his heart to end someone's life, or that is what he had hoped.

Cyril returned, much too fast though, and without hesitation pointed the tip of his wand to his forehead. He allowed the silvery string of the memory to be pulled into the pensieve and handed it to the boy.

He dove into the watery surface and entered the memory, rewatching the horrors unfold in front of him, from Cyril's eyes. Feeling a tinge rise in his chest, he clenched and unclenched his hands all the while looking into his own soulless eyes bending over the broken man on the floor and grinning in a very Voldemort-ish way.

Gasping, he pulled out of the memory, panting and finally noting how fast his heart beat within him. Raziel turned his head to look at the other with wide eyes.

"So, I killed a Death Eater and sucked out the other's magic, what exactly does that have to do with the fact that I can use no magic at all now? If I really took his magic I should be more powerful now, shouldn't I?" He felt a sting of regret, knowing he disregarded his kills as if they meant nothing, had he grown that inhuman and become incapable of feeling guilt? So what if they were Death Eaters and killers, he was a killer now too wasn't he?

"That's the problem, we are all born with a magic core shaped to fit the magic we are given at birth. Your body may have changed but inside you, resides the magic core of Harry Potter, that will remain unalterable." Cyril explained the worry never leaving his face.

"But I've had no trouble with my magic up until now, and even I know, my magic has changed in terms of power. Why did it happen now? And not before?" Raziel asked, squashing his unease, afraid of hearing bad news.

Cyril sighed. "Harry Potter's core is supposedly average and the same size as most normal wizard's, the problem though that is when you embraced your ancestry, your core was added a lot of pressure, resulting in your weak control of your magic's flow."

"But…"

"You told me you received a small amount of Voldemort's magic on that night, am I correct?"

"Y-yes." He stuttered, feeling his chest tighten in pain.

"From that moment your core's boundaries had already been put to a test. Magic not your own _inhabited_ you, but luckily your core has expanded over time to fit the additional magic and because of that it has had no consequences for you."

"Can't I grow used to this magic too then?"

A bitter laugh came filled the room. "You will, yes, if you don't use it at all for perhaps 30 years, could you wait that long?"

"30 years!" Raziel couldn't hold back his disbelief.

"Yes, considering Voldemort's magic had 15 years to settle in you, this amount should take even longer." Cyril said.

He clammed his mouth shut.

"Basically awakening and becoming Rahlin's magical heir should already have done this to you, but you took another persons magic in on top of that, and that is what made the glass spill."

"I don't care about that I just want to know how to return to normal."

"Return to normal? Impossible. Use magic again? Just takes some patience from you." Cyril corrected him. "Try to call on it again."

"I can't…"

"You can. I'll show you, later. You should get dressed and eat something nutritious, you've been in a comatose state for the past week or so, Millicent thought you wouldn't wake up and we had to force-feed you." And with that the other left the room.

And Raziel was left, with to his newfound sympathy for squibs, replaying Cyril's explanation inside his head to tirelessness.

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**_**ϟ**_**-**

* * *

The day after the banquet had been the quietest, and the most uncomfortable. Draco had struggled with turmoil inside him and been forced to come to term with his current situation. He was no longer in the manor, when his mother had learned that the mark was gone they had gone to an old safe house; their family had inherited from the Blacks. A safe-house Voldemort - and not even his father – had any knowledge of.

He reached for the wine and carefully poured some into an uniquely created silver chalice, he had received on his eleventh birthday. With closed eyes, Draco sipped slowly, keeping a few drops on his tongue to take in all the nuances of its flavour. After the last bit of taste had subsided in the still parched mouth, he opened his eyes with his pale pink lips curved into a weak smile and he let the pink muscle trail his bottom lip in search of lingering taste of the wine.

The wine was ambrosial to his sandpaper-dry mouth; good thing the taste was so rich that he could only sip it so slowly, else he would soon be find himself tipsy after only a second glass.

"_How could pureblood families stoop as low as to kill for their belief? Why do they follow a half-blood, no matter how powerful he is, if they truly believe in blood purity?"_

Draco winced and allowed his body to fall back into his leather-clad lounge chair, after putting the silver chalice away. He felt light-headed, and from only one cup, that did not exactly add to his now waning confidence.

_Lord_ Raziel's words stung him; he did not know why he now doubted his former Lord's blood purity and he had only after his own response noticed that he had taken Raziel's words as the truth without question. It was a mystery to him. The young boy had insulted purebloods on the basis of hypocrisy. Was there any proof of Voldemort being a half-bastard? No, and the idea itself had never even occurred to him, but now suddenly, without proof, without doubt in his mind, he believed the words of the person he was indebted to, and if Draco would honour the unwritten law of purebloods, Raziel would now be his superior, his master, his _lord_. He should be bound by an oath of fealty and homage to Raziel now and it should have bothered him greatly, but it did not.

What bothered him was his lord's apparent rejection of his services.

"_But really Malfoy, you can just do whatever you want. I have no need for your service"_

How dared that orphan reject him?

Releasing the claw-like hold he'd had on the chair's arms, he wondered what he could do to prove to his lord that he was a valuable card to have at hand and his service not to be taken for granted.

A reoccurring image of Raziel's battle had settled in his mind, he was _glowing_, so blindingly bright, even as he fell asleep on the ground next to his last kill, and spared Draco's shamed father who was now held hidden in Cyril's basement. They had rushed the bodies away and no one had seen who the last Death Eater had been, only his mother had noticed the faint wisp of magic hanging onto her now tortured husband. Draco now wished his father had never had such relations to the dark lord, Azkaban had affected him beyond imagination. He sank back into his chair and let his mind travel to the iridescent youth.

"Raziel." The name felt oddly familiar to his tongue, and it rolled off of his lips with such ease, not noting the way he closed his eyes as if the name made him sleepy. "_Raziel_."

_Raziel…Raziel…Raziel…Rahlin…_

His eyes snapped wide open and he pushed himself from the chair, striding with long steps towards the small library at the far end of the safe house. That name, Rahlin, it stirred something in him, he knew he'd read about this person somewhere, and once a Malfoy got curious, there was nothing that could stop them from searching the world till they found the answer they sought.

A…B…C….

Passing many bookshelves he finally came to a halt upon reaching Z.

He was in luck today, he grinned as he reached out to pull out the thin slick book. The book was written in Latin.

"_The tales of the ingenious commander_…Rahlin the Sagacious." He spoke softly as he scanned the cover's outdated text. Finding his way to the petite couch in the corner of the library, he promptly plopped down and studied it. The book was untouched by time as so many books were but the magic from it still crackled with a sound much like lightning, it was a buzzing sensation that spread in his palm where the cover came in contact.

The cover was painted with a deep royal blue sky, a lightning filled sky. Thunder echoed all around him and send another tinkling sensation through his hand.

Inside was no page of introduction, no title, no mention of the author or date of publishing. In fact the inside was like a whole different book, merely covered in a newer binding. The first pages were blank and the material they were made of were rough and old, telling something about the methods used to create paper older than he could imagine. But when he reached the fifteenth page a inelegant sentence was splashed across the page with old dried in ink-like spots in brilliant red.

"_Errare humanum est, sed in errore perseverare turpe."_ He read out loud to himself. "_Audiatur et altera pars_."

On the next page was written, in neatly written Latin with black text.

_To my dear old friend, Serpens. _

_My one honest friend among the two-faced and deceitful lot of lions. Lions whom I once believed to be part of my world, my sworn brothers, my family, my everything. But the truth will come out, eventually, I only regret having lived a lie for so long. I shall no longer allow them to use me in their sacrificial plans for a greater good I do not believe in._

_My enemies have become my allies, and my allies have become my enemies. I, Rahlin, son of Æther and Iljana Zuine, hereby and forevermore declare my allegiance to the Dark, may my soul forever be bound to the Dark ways and remain unusable to the Light…._

* * *

**-**_**ϟ**_**-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-**

* * *

Dual coloured eyes darkened with intensity and his chest clenched painfully.

No magic came. And Raziel was starting to feel, oh, so vaguely pissed.

"Why do you want me to perform such an advanced, not to mention nonverbal spell? Doesn't it take a great deal of magic force to use it? I can't even gather the magic needed for a simple _lumos_ right now!"

Cyril was sitting on a small stool watching him with silence. He had dragged the boy outside in the garden saying that should he perform this spell it would destroy his house.

"Focus, Raziel. Do as I told you, keep that image in your head, and use that pointless temper of yours to add some force, it will always be hard the first time but once you've felt the core opening to you, calling forth your magic should become, a little easier."

"The image doesn't help at all…?"

"After you fell asleep your body glowed with magic for five nights and four days. No one could touch you without getting thrown away when it lashed out at anyone within range, then on the fifth day your body couldn't take it any longer and I believe as a last means of defence to protect the rest of you." Cyril nodded towards his body. "Sealed off the wild magic within. What you must do now is create a new opening, it's painful but you of all people should be able to deal with it, beware though, when it does open, you must be mentally prepared to control it."

Raziel closed his eyes again and imagined a small tunnel around him, his chest started clenching again but he held onto the image. Faintly aware of the sudden merciless increase of chest pains, he started feeling the buzz inside his chest, like a small globe buzzing within.

"Raziel you can stop for now...we have guests…"

Ignoring the voice of the outside world he put all his attention on that buzzing feel of his core under the still growing pain.

"Stop it now!"

Wrapping his core gently in his mind, he listened to the chaos and unsettlement inside it; like two, opposing forces clashing together endlessly inside the small, cramped space that was his magical foundation.

He tried to pierce the globe but it was ridiculously hardened due to the magic pressure it kept inside it. Magic pressure he had to relieve it from sooner or later if he was to ever use magic again.

And like that he pushed into the hardened core with his willpower, his wrath and his desire calling out to the magic inside. He felt dizzy under the painful ache that had intensified tenfold in the moment it took for his magic to answer to his longing for it, and the effect was instantaneous.

The core buzzed louder, now with a different sound, as if the magic inside had united and put apart its differences to answer to his summon and it hammered at the walls imprisoning it and it keeping it from serving it's master's desires, the magic thought that _unforgivable_ and so began to fracture the barrier without forgiveness. Raziel worried that the opening would be too big, like Cyril had warned him against, spoke gently to his magic with a calming and soothing voice, ordering it to not destroy it's container but only pierce a single hole. And so it would be, because he asked for it.

_Terraemotus_. He thought as he welcomed the buzzing, sizzling and aching thread of magic now coming from the small opening, no bigger than the hole a needle could create, because he had willed it so. The magic was eagerly responding to his longing for its presence and wrapped itself around him, washing away the pain with a soothing buzz, the magic sang in joy at being free again filled his mind with familiar comfort that only his dreams had given him. But it wasn't long before their reunion was cut short.

"Raziel, wake up!"

A sonorous enhanced voice pulled his conscious wildly and he left the tunnel he'd created, opening his eyes with a gasp for air as if he'd been underwater and held his breath for too long.

The first thing he noted was his lack of balance, then he found out why he had no balance, the ground under his feet were quivering much like an earthquake.

The tremor ceased and the sight that met him was Cyril's beautiful garden, grass and flowers now split as the pieces of earth had divided opening rifts a few meters deep, running like a lightning shape of zigzag in several directions starting from his feet.

"You really love destruction, do you not?" Came the sarcastic comment from a now floating, Cyril who had found it too dangerous to stay on the ground. "Could you not hear me earlier? You just stood there unresponsive until suddenly you let out a buzzing sensation into the ground and a moment later you'd wrecked my beautiful garden like it was nothing. This will take hours if I have to revert it."

Raziel couldn't help but laugh despite the serious tone Cyril had used. He was only so immensely happy that he still had his magic. He couldn't imagine living as a squib.

"Leave this mess, like I said earlier, we have guests." Cyril ordered nodding towards the terrace where a bunch of people had gathered with sombre expressions, among them were Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, the only ones who did not seem uncomfortable with the sight of the ruined garden.

"Sorry to have made you wait." His adoptive father apologized as they reached the group. "We can start the meeting now."

Raziel wrinkled his nose as he noticed how dirty he had gotten now smelling like soil and flowers. Draco watched him with an unreadable expression, next to his mother but did not seem bothered by his now dishevelled appearance, more like in deep thought over something he had seen.

"About time." A middle-aged and dark-skinned gruff wizard spoke; looking at Cyril, while refusing to even look at Raziel, but he did cast a quick glare at Draco. "Did you call for a meeting intending to allow a former Death Eater and your… son who is not even in allegiance to the dark yet, entrance?"

"Draco is not a Death Eater. Is he also not a close friend of your own son, Mr. Zabini?" Cyril inquired with an innocent smirk. "Draco, I know this is not really needed but could you show them your arms?"

Draco stood still for a second glaring at the interrogating gazes of the other purebloods but stepped out in a more open spot and pulled up his sleeves as far as they could go, to show off his unmarred white skin, skin so white and pure that it caused jealousy in some of the witches who quickly hid their annoyance behind a mask of calm.

Raziel would have injected that the only reason Malfoy didn't have a mark was because he had removed it, but thought it unwise to let these people know that, as Raziel he shouldn't bear any of the grudges Harry Potter had felt towards the blonde who really had not treated him all that bad yet.

And like that he decided to pretend that Malfoy had never been a Death Eater, in the first place.

Mr. Zabini looked around uncomfortably as if to see the reactions around him. In truth they had all expected the younger Malfoy to follow in Lucius steps and even heard the rumours, stating that he now bore the mark, but apparently those claims were now proved invalid. Malfoy smirked back almost sweetly not bothering to hide his content. He was beyond happy just to be rid of the mark now.

"And as for Raziel, not yet being dark does not mean he isn't welcome in our circle now does it? He is in _my_ custody, a member of TA and that should be enough for you even if he used light magic." Cyril continued, hiding his own annoyance at the silence that followed. "Now, this way if you please."

Cyril led the group into his study and stopped in front of the giant picture of his ancestor Calvin Bulstrode, a dark-haired wizard currently soundly asleep in his velvety, olive-colored armchair.

"_Dubito ergo cogito ergo sum_." Cyril said, and Raziel recognized the words from his latin book as: I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am.

Like the portraits at Hogwarts, this one swung open to reveal a dark narrow opening. Raziel watched as the others went in as if they knew this secret entrance very well. Only Narcissa and Draco seemed a bit uncertain as they entered and Raziel followed quickly, trying to keep up with the group as the portrait shut behind him and the passage was left shrouded in complete darkness, but there was only one way to go, and that was _down_. After walking for a good few minutes, only faintly hearing the footsteps of the others ahead of him, the tunnel suddenly lit up ahead as torches ignited themselves leading them into a big room probably somewhere under the mansion.

The assembly room was round, and so was the polished atypical wooden table placed in its heart, surrounded by eleven lightly cushioned chairs of same kind of wood. On the curved stone wall hang candleholders, giving them just enough light to see the dancing reflection of small flames on the black, polished mineral stone tiles but still keeping the atmosphere out of the ordinary with the only hazily lit up obscurity of the chamber.

The wizards and witches all seated themselves, once again picking their seat like it had always been their spot at the table. Like they knew this room as if it was their own, and not part of Cyril's house, making Raziel wonder why his guardian had not shown him this room before.

Raziel took the only seat still open, next to Draco and a wizard he faintly recognized as Kaspar Blackwell who gave him a small smile as he seated himself.

Cyril sat almost opposite of him but like this he could clearly see his adoptive father in all his glory as he scanned the people around the table with dark eyes glowing their determination to let people know of his presence.

"I welcome you all to our 108th meeting." He spoke smoothly, and stopped to see if anyone would dare speak, but the silence that met him, urged him to continue. "It's been some months since our last gathering and we have since then gained some new members, and now the presence of my adoptive son, whom most of you must know by now, but I believe a re-introduction of you all is in order. For old as well as new members."

The wizard next to Cyril rose from his chair with the grace of a veela, Raziel thought as the swift yet noiseless movement entranced him. "Aloysius Archis, representative for the Archis family and also head of the _Auror-office_ for the ministry of magic. Pureblood and in allegiance to the dark."

Aloysius sat down and Raziel could in the faint light make out the sharp greenish grey eyes, in the brunette's poker face.

The next stood up, a bit less quietly and also managed to slam her knee into the table edge in the progress. "Ouch...sorry about that." She muttered apologetically as she straightened herself. "Louise Addison, pureblood, in allegiance to the dark and chief editor for _Witch Weekly_. "

Raziel almost grunted out loud as an uncomfortable memory of Gilderoy Lockhart made its way into his mind. The fraud of a professor from his second year, that had posed so revoltingly for Witch Weekly with his even more revolting fake smile.

"Diedrich Zabini. Pureblood, in allegiance with the dark and working in the _Improper use of Magic office._"

A mottled old wizard who looked even older than Dumbledore stood. "Samuel Dryden, pureblood, raised as a light wizard but now in allegiance to the dark. Member of the Wizengamot."

He had leaned a bit further in on the table to see the Wizengamot member but soon pulled back realizing how rude it was to stare.

A wizard and a witch stood together as a couple. "Alek Bridgewater and Eirene Bridgewater née Johnson." Alek said and let his wife continue. "We are both in allegiance to the dark and purebloods, of course. We both work in the main office with the International Confederation of Wizards."

Alek and Eirene seemed like the type of pair to do everything in life together, both already in their late thirties and still obviously very much in love from the way they held hands under the table. He wondered if his parents would still be like this if they were alive and well.

Finally came the people he knew. "Kaspar Blackwell, pureblood, in allegiance to the dark and working as part of the creative team for Department of Magical Games and Sports."

Silence came and he hurriedly stood up himself, completely forgetting that it was now his turn. He looked straight at Cyril to better ignore the intense starring from the rest of the gathering as he spoke. "Raziel Zuine Peverell Bulstrode, adoptive son of Cyril Bulstrode, pureblood and in no allegiance yet."

He sat down and forced his racing heart to calm. Next to him Malfoy rose to introduce himself, in a bit more elegant manner than Raziel himself had managed.

"Draconis Lucius Malfoy, pureblood, in allegiance with the dark." He spoke capably making Raziel feel even more awkward about his own intro.

"Narcissa Malfoy née Black. Pureblood, in allegiance with the dark." She said a bit stiffly but overall managed to keep calm under the eyes of the others.

Cyril stood. "Cyril Teion Eadmund Bulstrode. Pureblood, in allegiance with the dark and head of TA." He looked around to see the nods, acknowledging him.

"We have severeal matters to discuss this evening, but first I must inform the new members of why we are gathered here tonight, I imagine you, Raziel is wondering what TA is. TA is us. We are '_Tenebrae Aeternae'_ much like the darker equivalent of the Order of the Phoenix. We work in the shadows whenever the need arises, but we all have a common goal, much like Dumbledore's Order, we exist to _dispose_ of Voldemort." Met with Raziel's still quizzical stare Cyril explained. "Narcissa and Draco Malfoy have volunteered and will from tonight on be your hosts. You will spend the last week of your holiday with them at their safe house to avoid another episode like the attack on the night of the Banquet. And we are gathered here for something else as well, I think you ought to read what happened while you were asleep…"

Cyril threw a copy of the Prophet across the table and on the front page he saw a familiar blackhaired boy with round glasses and a curse scar on his forehead, posing with an unaturally wide smile next to Hogwart's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore for the frontpage article: **'Harry Potter Returns from Secret Training!'**

* * *

- to be continued -

_Fake Harry Potter is on the loose_! Who is Serpens? What is the purpose of Tenebrae Aeternae and can Draco be a good host to protect Harry/Raziel from the dark lord?

Oh and I guess I should say, Raziel can't actually use much magic, he is weakened so he's not so powerful atm, he'll have to some time in this state till he can channel it again. Can't have him too OP so early in the story.


	5. ϟ Alter ipse Amicus ϟ

**Full summary:** At the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites and a new face, Harry decides to flee, believing that people count on chance to save them too much, it's time for them to wake up to reality and the fact that their _saviour_ might not necessarily choose to save them after all, it is time to be _Dark_. With Harry Potter gone, their world is thrown into a frenzy of panic and uproar, just the kind of distraction needed for a new unknown pureblood, Raziel, to make his appearance without bringing too much attention to himself. Slightly Dark!Harry. Eventually Powerful!Harry. HP/DM**  
Rating**: **T** for now but **M** later.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.**  
Pairing**: Both slash and Het. Main will eventually be _Draco/Harry_ but for those against slash you can consider this a Harry/no one fic, coz I'll be placing slash warnings for each chapter_._

Thanks for your reviews and patience, It's been quite a while, mainly due to all the errors. Had to upload this immediately because I dont know when ffnet decides to kick me off again... this should be around 10 k words too. God I hate all these errors that keeps pilling up on this site, it's been over a week it should be fixed by now = (

If you are confused after reading this chapter. Read the '**Important**' Note at the bottom of the chapter.

* * *

**Tenebrae Aeternae  
Chapter Five  
_- _****_Alter ipse Amicus_****-**

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

**_Harry Potter Returns from Secret Training  
_**_By Rita Skeeter_

_'Our saviour was never missing in the first place' was the bold statement from Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, when the morning to Thursday, this reporter found yours truly, Harry James Potter, with Dumbledore in Diagon alley busy with some last minute shopping for necessary supplies and books for a new exciting year at Hogwarts._

_'It was all a stunt, a clever plan to lead Voldemort on a wild goose-chase, but unfortunately upon seeing panic and disorder in the wizarding society of Britain, young Harry decided to return earlier than planned from his secret training, simply because he cares too much for the safety of the his people and had to let everyone know that he is alright and completely unharmed.' Albus explained while Harry Potter himself wasn't available for comment because he had to continue his training. This reporter thinks Harry Potter is an amazingly hardworking young man with a heart of gold. Britain is so lucky to have him._

Raziel made a gagging sound catching the attention of Draco at his side.

"Potter's gone a bit overboard this time hasn't he?" He simply commented silently as Raziel pushed the paper away like it was poisonous. This wasn't the action of the Dumbledore he remembered, it was a reckless and stupid thing to do and if he had not been on the front page with the imposter-Harry, Raziel would have believed it beneath his old _professor_ – what exactly had Dumbledore been to him? A nice old grandfather who kept too many secrets? An ally? A guardian of sorts? A friend? - to do this.

He finally noticed that everyone's eyes were now on him and immediately caught Cyril's eyes trying not to let the other's know of his discomfort. Obviously they would be looking at him to read his reaction in a failed attempt to figure out where he stood in comparison to them.

"This is an imposter." He simply stated, only Cyril knew that the real Harry Potter was actually in their midst, of course. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see several shocked expressions, contemplating whether to think him senseless or smart for coming to a conclusion so fast.

"Exactly." Was the instant reply.

Murmurs broke out at the table some of disbelief others of anger.

"Outrageous, the old coot has done it again." Kaspar said as if it wasn't a surprise and almost flawlessly covering up his own disbelief from a moment ago, until Cyril's confirmation. The mottled wizard's slit eyes flashed dangerously at the others' choice of words.

"Is there any proof of this Cyril?" The Wizengamot member, Samuel asked hesitantly. "I must keep a neutral standpoint to this accusation without the proper evidence."

"Have you ever seen Harry Potter smile for an article? The boy shuns the media and this one enjoys it, does that look like the usual Harry Potter to you?" Louise Bridgewater said rolling her eyes. "Tobias once considered doing an article about him for Witch Weekly but we couldn't find any decent photographs of Potter, we had to think about our readers, Harry Potter was simply too gloomy to portray in our magazine."

"People change, that isn't proof, that's just an observation." Samuel said flatly.

"Let me ask you first, Samuel, do you believe this is the real Harry Potter?" Cyril asked.

Samuel stared back at Cyril hard for a moment then sighed. "I don't know what to think anymore these days really. I don't know."

"Do you think Harry Potter is a necessary element in the war against Voldemort?" Cyril then asked, not looking at Raziel.

"If I believed that we might as well have hid underground and waited for a cease-fire. How could a boy bear a burden like that alone? If such a day comes I believe it would be the end of us. It is the Light wizards who are firm believers of prophecies, not I. No one - and certainly not a child - is expected to do this alone." Samuel said with a frustrated sigh. Raziel felt relief wash over him; at least these people didn't appear to think of him as a chess piece on a board.

"Hence Dumbledore used a stand-in to calm to public, question is who, and how he managed to get enough of Potter's hair for a, continuous transformation with Polyjuice potion. We'll soon know who the fake is, I'll be staying at Hogwarts as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and it's about time we have Snape return to us."

"Are you sure we can still trust Snape to be on our side? He seems to have fallen extremely well into the role of Dumbledore's pet spy." Aloysius said with an exasperated tone while forth on the table.

Draco blinked and looked around perplexed. "Snape is a with you people? What is going on? Has he been working for three different sides all along?" Narcissa quickly hid her own glimpse of surprise.

"You would think that wouldn't you, little son of Lucius?" Blackwell suddenly laughed; ignoring the menacing glare that Narcissa sent his way. Raziel could see Draco's hands clench in his lap, in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "Snape was never…"

"Kaspar I think it is better if we explain it properly to Narcissa and Draco, they are no longer our enemies but our long lost friends who has finally returned to the ways of the Dark." Cyril interrupted, sending an apologetic smile to the Malfoy's. "Severus Snape was one of the first members to join TA, one of his first missions were to infiltrate the Death Eaters' ranks along with Regulus-"

"Regulus Black?" Raziel interrupted before he could stop himself, most of the others looked amused by his lack of control, although people like Samuel shot him a dirty look, he would have to be wary of that one. From what he'd noted so far Dryden was short-tempered and fiercely loyal to his own beliefs only, anyone that disagreed - or spoke out of turn - the least with him were likely to be put on his black list.

"Yes, Regulus Arcturus Black, brother of Sirius Black, the one and only." The older wizard added, wearily before looking up at Raziel.

"Regulus and Severus were inseparable, even from their Hogwarts years, but only few knew of their friendship. Originally it was only Regulus who had volunteered for this mission but Severus convinced TA that it would be safer to send both on this mission. One was known as an eminent Legillimens, whilst the other was an unknown Occlumens, what one lacked the other made up for, they were a brilliant two-man army so of course it was allowed."

The Harry inside him couldn't imagine Snape in any sort of friendship with anyone and for the first time wondered if Sirius had ever truly known what kind of person his brother was if he had risked his life to spy on Voldemort. In his mind Snape would probably forever remain the greasy-haired unfair head of Slytherin and the potion master who enjoyed making his life miserable. Involuntarily his eyes fell on Malfoy, or dared he think – Draco. The boy had spent the better part of his Hogwarts years dragging two monkeys around on tow and getting his arse kicked by Raziel – by Harry. Whether he could acknowledge it or not, the truth remained that he would never get completely rid of his other self, without Harry Potter he would not be what he was and he might never have ended up with a dark family. What if he had been the son of an ordinary Light family, like Ronald Weasley? Ok perhaps not exactly _ordinary_, Raziel had to admit that he would have liked a – smaller family, but the Weasley's had always treated him with warmth and there had been a nice lively atmosphere with so many brothers and a sister around you.

His chest tightened as his attention had wandered to Ron's sister, Ginny Weasley. Not knowing how she was doing did worry him a little; he had considered her his own sister. Or well, for a good period of four years, it was only last year he had realized after seeing her date Michael Corner and then Dean Seamus that he understood what the discomfort he had felt then meant.

Most of the pureblood families that he had met so far only had one or perhaps two children at most, almost as if it was enough, the only Dark pureblood family he could think of with more than two children per generation at the moment would be. The Blacks. Draco's mother Narcissa was born a Black too, along with… Bellatrix. And of course his godfather Sirius, whose younger brother Regulus whom Raziel had till just a moment ago only known as a kid who ran off and joined the dark lord but had turned out to be too much of a wimp, that got himself killed by an underling of Voldemort because he was not important enough.

"Severus and Regulus took the mark and became our mirrors inside Voldemort's army, regrettably Regulus was soon suspected by various of Voldemort's followers for duplicity. Regulus however did not flee from his task but instead gave up his life to take away something from Voldemort, something of value, but we are not yet quite sure what it is and if he managed to keep it. Snape had by then already started cajoling Dumbledore into believing he was a naïve Death Eater who wanted out of Voldemort's grip and therefore on orders from Tenebrae Aeternae successfully snaked his way into a spot in The Order of the Phoenix instead. Dumbledore saw a servant in Severus, a lost man he could lead on the way of the Light and also _use_ to gain information on Voldemort like we had."

"Does Dumbledore know about…Tenebrae Aeternae?" Raziel wanted to know. "Even if Snape is a great Legillimens he isn't exactly a good Occlumens."

"Good question, but we already thought of a measure against that. You see, Severus has no recollection of ever working for us and Dumbledore certainly cannot find what even Severus himself does not know of." Cyril explained almost excitedly. "To put it bluntly, I modified his memory and put a… lock on some of them."

"You _Obliviated_ him? Against his will?" Raziel's voice was suddenly colder than he would have expected of himself. The Veela-like man's brow rose in amusement and Raziel could only try to shrug off the discomfort, ignoring the unwavering gazes, hiding what he could behind a frail mask devoid of emotion.

Raziel wasn't going to lie to himself any longer, right now he felt so bared in this dim room stuck with a bunch of dark wizards he hardly knew – who referred to themselves as Tenebrae Aeternae – openly chatting peacefully about the heroic deeds of Sirius' younger brother apparently done out of altruism…. Worse yet, it would seem that his hated teacher was in fact not just a double spy for Dumbledore which he had previously had a hard time believing in, he had in fact been a bloody triple-spy all along – and here Raziel was now sitting flabbergasted and still not quite sure why he was even here and why they trusted him enough to share information that could get them killed if it ended in the wrong hands – were they just stupid or was this a huge declaration of trust? Perhaps neither, perhaps he was now trapped in an unknown organisation that _could_ and would force him to participate in their battle with the excuse that he now knew too much to escape.

He shuddered and hoped it wasn't the case. Of course it was definitely just his imagination running wild, like always.

"Merlin no! It is not a simple spell, it is a dark ritual that Severus performed _willingly_, or it would not have worked. It only works when one is willing. My role in this is the function of the key. I intend to unlock his memories upon my return to Hogwarts." Cyril said now looking away from him. "I know it wasn't the plan to have you attend school but as things are now, I believe there is no choice, we must make up your background to slip you in as a late bloomer."

Raziel blinked.

"Late bloomer? Good one Cye, but why would Voldemort send his servants to collect such a weak wizard, the story won't hold, everyone knows what happened." Diedrich Zabini laughed heartily. "It's a wonder that the reporters haven't broken through your wards yet, obviously you've been too careless with them lately."

"Circumstances like these allows for self-defence, we're in a time of war, using unforgivables on Death Eaters won't send him to prison, but I'm sure you knew that Diedrich." Cyril reminded his friend. "No wards can keep them out, I refuse to use human sacrifices to strengthen them." His guardian ended casually.

"No my friend, the ministry merely couldn't _prove_ his use of magic, but there was so many eyewitnesses that day, they won't let this go Cyril." Diedrich scowled as he shook his head dejectedly. "Sooner or later they'll demand an explanation. How will you go about telling that this kid can make the earth under him ripple and split with a fifty feet radius and use unforgivables without a wand? I'm personally looking forward to read your front-page story on that in the near future."

An uncomfortable silence spread leaving no doubt left in Raziel. Sighing heavily, now completely aware of where this would lead, he turned to look straight at Cyril. "Do they know, _father_?"

Cyril's eyes remained locked on Diedrich's but he understood the question perfectly. It was reckless, Raziel knew, and it was bound to raise questions from the others now. The Bulstrode's eyes finally shifted to him with an unyielding gaze that denied the question.

"I cannot reveal that unless, my son allows me to." His guardian answered the not yet voiced questions that hung in the air. "You won't hear it from me I'm afraid, you must… earn Raziel's trust."

This statement brought fury.

"Earn his trust? What about our trust? Why did you allow the boy to stay at our meeting? Is his trust more important to you than that of your allies'?" Aloysius asked frostily, pale green eyes narrowed in silent irritation.

"I'm afraid my statement holds, Aloysius my friend. I'm under an oath of silence, I cannot tell you." The Bulstrode said bluntly. "If you underwent the Oath too, perhaps Raziel would allow me to tell you."

"I will give you my oath, if your son joins TA." Aloysius then said with a smirk, all coldness gone from his voice that now sounded melodious and playful. "Let him join and let's put that wild magic of his under control."

"You can't be serious! He's a child, Al! He could get badly hurt." Eirene Bridgewater exclaimed horrified by the idea. "He should not participate in our fight actively, enough children has died in this useless war!"

Alek put an arm on his wife's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. "He's almost an adult, it is his own choice dear. Cyril is his guardian and we have no say in this."

"I want to join." Raziel said instantly ignoring the frantic woman's outburst. Did all females have to be so hysterical? That lady was starting to remind him of Molly Weasley in the most annoying way. "But, I will not tell any of you about me yet even if you swear."

Aloysius's smile faltered and the atmosphere changed like a glamour had been lifted.

"I know too much already don't I?" Raziel deadpanned.

"Whether you know or don't know does not matter the least. The moment you entered this room you should know that nothing you say here can be retold when you leave it. It is simple magic used for secrecy really." Spoke the person next to him, causing a jolt of shock, it was Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that the blonde was there since he and his mother had not said much. Pushing away a surge of annoyance he had to shamefully remind himself that the blonde's words had held neither spite nor superiority and that it was his own fault for not noting before. His magic tried to touch the wards only to confirm the younger Malfoy's words, even with his limited use of magic, it was painfully obvious and he _should_ have seen it before, but the thought lingered – Malfoy had grown up in this world that prided itself in its ability to pretend supremacy over others, yet it also seemed that truly, the ignorant one had been himself, not his former bully.

"I see."

"Not that he should join either. Has that boy manipulated you so thoroughly that you fail to see what danger he brings us!" The Addison witch said harshly, ignoring him.

"Danger?" Aloysius laughed, warningly. "Very funny, Louise. I thought you, were part of TA for that very reason if I remember correctly, you wanted to fight Voldemort to avenge that dead husband of yours, or does my memory fail me? How can you suddenly speak as if we aren't already in constant danger of being exterminated, what difference does it really make if we take him in?"

"This isn't about danger in general I am fully aware of what I signed up for, I know there will be sacrifices if we are to reach our goal, but who's to say he won't snap and turn against us, Aloysius? You saw what he did, we deserve an explanation to… this!" She gestured rudely at Raziel with a pointing finger that shook ever so slightly as if fear was a playing factor in her very reaction.

It felt like a slap in the face to Raziel, who had momentarily forgotten the deaths of Bellatrix and Macnair, which he had caused. It had not occurred to him that these people might be afraid of him and consider him unstable and untrustworthy in the light of recent events. Some part of him had felt amused by the obvious show of fear while the rest was greatly offended by the rudeness he was shown.

"Cyril can vouch for him and that's enough for me. I speak for the Archis family when I say we shall happily support Cyril's decision regarding Mr. Peverell. He could quite possibly be our future ally, it would be unwise to make enemies of potential allies."Aloysius said.

"Thank you Al."

"Surely you aren't thinking of letting him join? Cyril, you know things about him, we don't-" Louise argued.

"Of course I do, I live with him." Cyril bit back. "Raziel has the potential to become a wonderful wizard, but if you act this distrustful of him, how do you expect him to trust you back, he was attacked! Who wouldn't defend themselves?"

"Eirene you don't support this decision either do you? You said he's too young." Louise tried to convince the other female to back her up.

Eirene avoided Louise eyes. "I'm not this boy's guardian so I have no say in this." Said the other now strangely detached from her prior reaction.

Raziel felt anger and frustration twirling dangerously inside him and for the time being he was glad that his magic was so tightly locked away.

"Unless you explain what it is that you know, I don't think I can agree to such an atrocious proposition. He's a child still, we have lost enough children in this futile war of tug and pull." The Addison witch said, anxiously.

He had had enough of this behaviour.

"You-!"

"Mrs. Addison," His voice clear and sharp forced their attention to him. The widow sneered at the interruption but quickly clamped her mouth shut "If this is how you feel then I do not think I want to be part of this Order. I'm my own person and you amongst others have been all too busy with finding faults in me. Your values are clear to me now; and I say – you are wasting my time letting emotions control you and putting aside reason." He looked around to meet the eyes of the dark order, letting his magic assist him in showing a weaker but still effective confident outer shell of the aura he had worn on the night of the banquet. No one could speak against him right now, the threatening aura looming faintly around him, made sure of that.

How dared they, how dared these people speak as if he wasn't here. Was he being unreasonable? Should he just tell them who he really was and then all would miraculously be settled? They had been rude and did not deserve such information from him!

He rose from his chair with a movement so sudden that it made Addison flinch and Kaspar watch him with something akin to fascination.

"It is a fact that I have killed two Death Eaters, I cannot deny that, but I also thought the purpose of this order was to get rid of Voldemort and his followers – not to mention the fact that it was self-defence. I think myself no more unstable than you people, but I admit to being inexperienced, I do not know the extend of what happened since I was unconscious but how am I supposed to react to your show of obvious fear and detest of me when in fact I've only done what you people have tried to do for years? I do not need your acceptance and I do not want to waste any more time with hysterical women who see only my age and not my actions. You fear me, but you are rude enough to talk about it as if I am not right here in front of you. I cannot respect people like that. I'm sorry, Cyril, but I'm taking my leave, I will attend Hogwarts and stay with the Malfoy's if that is what you think is best for me."

As he stomped out leaving them all in stunned silence he failed to see the approving smile playing on Dryden's thin lips or hear the laughter from Kaspar Blackwell.

"You sure he won't be mad when he finds out…?" The Bridgewater witch asked carefully as the atmosphere changed from sombre to lively. "His magic has weakened since that incident."

"No, Eirene, everything is as it should be. We had to do this, he will come around soon." Cyril said tonelessly, no sign of worry over his young charge's sudden leave.

"So, now that the act is over, I'd like to volunteer myself to educate the boy, I will personally teach him our ways." The Blackwell heir said without hesitation.

"You wish, Kaspar, It is better if he learns the grace and stealth of the Archis, the shadows is the place for him, all he will learn from you is how to stand out!" Aloysius grinned icily, eyes gleaming with poorly hidden excitement.

"Says the magister of illusions and glamours…" Kaspar shot back.

"My dear friends, I see that you are all eager to share our secrets with young Raziel, unfortunately that will have to wait, so for now I'm putting my faith in you," Cyril said. "Narcissa."

The blonde witch smiled sweetly honoured to be chosen among so many illustrious families. She would do her best to bring back honour to the Malfoys.

"Let us move on to the _real _meeting."

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

A large garden with virtually endless lines of flowerbeds, fruit bushes and fruit trees of many distinct sorts and a spacious lawn with a glider dangling from the old Oak tree surrounded the big white house. To any outsider it was just another _ordinary_ home, albeit a bit big for a small family, but who would suspect this beautiful vanilla-coloured residence to be the safe house of a wizard family, and not just a wizard family but also a _Dark_ wizard family at that. Some of the neighbours had discovered - or mostly the children - knew that if one snuck close enough to peek in through the bushes, they might have a chance to catch a glimpse of the flaxen-haired boy who seemed to come out everyday around noon to rest in the cool shades of a small and delicate apple tree near the gazebo.

"Sis, mammy said not to peek into other people's gardens like that." Came the chiding voice from a small mousy-haired boy, no older than seven.

Cecilia hushed at her younger brother and took the slightly chubby child hand in hers. A bit further down the blind road was a dense thicket between raspberry bushes where nothing grew, but to the young girl that place was a secret hole into another world, so far from own family's garden that could only fit the words, untended, barren and empty. Through the hole was a cavity just big enough to room both of them as they sat on the moist earth between gnarled roots and bushes. "See, Tim, it is the angel I told you about."

'Tim' drew closer to the opening to look at the young man. The angel had medium-length platinum blonde hair, and electrifying light blue eyes and looked awfully pale even as shadows covered his face. "He looks sick…is something wrong with him?" the boy whispered sadly. "Why doesn't he get sunburnt? He's so pale!"

"Shh, not so loud," The girl huffed. "Some are just paler than others, mam told me it's because of something called melanin that our skin produces that decides the colour of your skin." But why this blonde boy was seemingly unaffected by the strong sunlight even she couldn't comprehend.

The angelic boy gave a heavy sigh of frustration, letting his head fall back to rest against the old apple tree. The bark was chilly and dry to the touch; the petite grooves and nooks caught strands of his hair and tugged lightly at it when he moved his head. Closing his eyes against the bright sunlight filtering through between the vividly green leafs and nearly over-ripe fruits dangling over him.

"Malfoy."

The children held their breaths as a second boy – in many ways the blonde angel's opposite with his inky black tresses and piercing green-blue eyes, though no less picturesque in his own way – appeared from behind the white gazebo, strolling quietly through the fresh mowed grass with bare feet, hands twisted behind his back, making the simple white shirt he wore tighten around his front while stretching his arms.

"So late already?" The blonde's voice reached across the garden soft yet clear.

"Yes," The other confirmed with a nod, now standing next to the still unmoving flaxen angel and bending down close to the other's cheek with a tranquil expression, whispering something to his friend.

"…" The angel propped himself up and with a lethargic push of his of his palms on grass, jumped to his feet and reaching into his sleeve to pull out something that looked like a stick.

Cecilia and Tim had barely comprehended what happened next before the _angel_ stood just at the other side of the bushes, looking at them with feral blue eyes suitable of a _demon_ as he pointing at them with the smooth stick. "_Obliviate_."

The children's eyes glazed over as magic took away a day of their lives like it was nothing.

"I swear this is the fourth time in just two days! Stupid muggles mucking around on other peoples properties!" Draco growled as the children walked away in a zombie-like state, cleared of all memories.

"They were just children, no one would believe their stories and you are not allowed to use magic here!" Raziel argued.

"They are a _bane_. I truly fail to understand why a family such as the Blacks would have a home in a muggle town, unwarded against public eyes and so, so very _average_." Draco sneered, his _angelic_ face scrunched up in fury for another second or two before draining away and recomposing itself back into it's usual dreamy expression of detachment.

"Perhaps this is where they would come to relax and try life as non-magic people." Raziel said helpfully, but judging by Mrs. Black's yelling portrait that wouldn't be the case, why indeed would the Blacks own a house so very unguarded and normal? _If_ a giant colonial style house, in a small town, in the middle of nowhere could actually be considered normal. To the Malfoy's however, this was a far throw from their luxurious manor no doubt.

"You find this relaxing do you? So common and so very far away from civilisation, very befitting of you." Draco said darkly. He was in a bad mood today, now he would have to yet again contact Mr. Zabini about his improper use of magic in the muggle world, giving the TA member some extra paperwork to tend to, in an effort to keep their current location hidden. They were not allowed to use magic here, which only seemed to be a heightening factor in the blonde's displeasure.

The blonde looked down sharply to see if any of the tree's leafs had stuck to his thin pearl-gray silk vest, the movement causing the smallest green blur to float down in front of his eyes. Scowling, he quickly ruffled his hair to dislodge the few leafs that had tangled in with the silky locks, he hadn't even realised they had been falling on him.

"Just get over it will you, I'm tired of this too, but you should be more careful, how could you not sense their presence when they were so close?"

"It's not me who is being incautious, it's you who is too circumspect." The blonde countered as he led the other to the dining room. Draco had long ago noticed how Raziel seemed to be hyperaware of everything around him and kept glancing around like a deer suspecting he was about to get caught in the headlights. Sure they had to be careful but the other wasn't just careful he was acting distrustful ever since the night of the meeting.

Bringing out the spare china from the cupboard, he began setting the table for tea.

Draco had been very surprised when the ostracizing of Raziel had all been revealed to be nothing but a grand scheme. He did however feel a bit sorry for the other who had unknowingly played right into their act, only proving Cyril's description of the him to be true. The Zuine-Peverell heir had acted on impulse and been headstrong, and had needed the disillusionment for many reasons, Draco only feared that the boy wouldn't look at this experience with kind eyes anytime soon.

Speaking of eyes.

Raziel's expressive eyes followed Draco's hand movements forlornly, the colour of those eyes, Draco realized, were quite extraordinary. Not simply because of the mismatch in colour. One was a blue so deep it almost looked turned deep amethyst under the tree's soothing shadows and the other a bottle green just as rich and deep in colour that it was hard to actually distinguish them.

The embarrassment on Raziel's face caused him to look away to spare his clumsy guest. The many years amongst those shameless muggles – like the ones they had just caught peeking in their backyard - must have shaken the natural grace from Raziel, the natural grace that had come to Draco almost like a birthright. Raziel was clumsy. Not beyond help, of course. Draco wouldn't allow failure.

The black-haired boy's fingers fumbled nervously with the spoon, in an attempt to stir his tea. Draco grit his teeth as the silverware clinked against the fragile walls of the teacups inside.

"You're too forceful. Are you trying to make me go deaf?" Draco said, lightly amused when the other let go of the spoon with a huff of anger.

"This is ridiculous, why should I learn to stir tea without making a sound? I don't even like this bloody tea." The Peverell boy said through clenched teeth.

"Temper, temper. Don't be mad at me. Normally you don't learn these things so late in life, you _grow up_ with them and they come naturally, but you're acting like a child as it is so I think we should start over with the basics, again." Draco said, voice dripping with endless patience. The kind of endless patience needed when handling uncouth children.

Finding his newly given task at hand quite entertaining, he could barely hold back a laugh as Peverell's visage changed from anger to dejection. Was Draco a tad bit too hard on him? Nope. Did he take pleasure in the hardship of others? _Definitely_. It was only fair that he could sit here, now calmly enjoying the fruits of his own hard work, while encouraging others to work hard for theirs.

A swell of pride and appreciation rushed through his veins at the memory of all the years he had spent working up an indelible control of his facade, and finally feeling the triumph of being able to keep the outlet of emotion at a minimum. It was a useful weapon and he intended to wield it fiercely against this, _unpolished_ gem, to exploit the boy's weaknesses and rid the boy of all these impurities – immature emotions.

Immature emotions were ok – as long as they couldn't be seen, Draco had convinced himself with a feral smile.

Draco would whip this unruly pureblood into shape, and in a way it allowed him to feel a bit power over the other who was less knowledge than himself, but he also took great pride in helping his – liberator – new companion. All he had ever known was the strict education his father had drilled into him at an early age, a destiny befalling every lone child and consequently heir of a pure-blooded family, if they were to hope for a bright future and securing a role in the pureblood society of today.

Elegance was the key. And without it, no one would listen to you even if you were truly gifted and smart in other areas.

"It's tea! Give me some books on world history and I'd gladly read them but I don't see the point learning how to hold a sodding teacup with two fingers!" Peverell finally snapped. Such _uncontrollable_ rage, that in itself told several facts about Draco's new acquaintance and eventually - future lord. First and foremost, the boy was a ticking bomb; he had probably spent years in a submissive role forced upon him, which Draco could already imagine being the case.

And then there was eagerness and wilfulness, bucket loads of that. Will bordering disrespect. At least he was eager to learn still, no wait. …– eager to learn? Eager to learn_ only_ what _interested _him. Bloody hell; was this perhaps a lost course after all? Draco refused to admit defeat.

His patience was great, but this idiocy was greater and so the Malfoy heir felt forced to remind Peverell that here _he_ - Draco, _was_ spending the last week of _his_ holiday, wasting _his_ time on an ungrateful brat, so the least _said brat_ could do was shut up and listen or at the very least feign some interest, but even that seemed like an unrealistic goal still.

"You have plenty of time to read as it is, you need to behave and start taking Pureblood manners seriously if you wish others to take _you_ seriously. Am I really wasting my time on you? You sleep on our precious _incunabula_ – father would smack you if he'd seen you drooling all over his precious collection! Not to mention such a simple matter as dining. You don't actually _eat _but _guzzle_ and _devour_ food and drinks like a starving man, you drag your feet when you walk, you burp, you wear the same robes all day, and… you destroyed three teacups in one hour! Those were mother's treasured china and have been in our family for decades! You're a walking disaster…"

"…I did…. apologize for that..." Peverell's voice sounded genuinely sorry but yet so awkward.

Merlin! This boy reminded him of someone, someone he didn't quite like. Probably some loser from school with rage issues, who thought he was always in the right, but who was it again?

Ah, yes, Potter was it.

The Peverell boy's unreasonable anger had seeped away leaving nothing behind but an exquisite tint of scarlet.

Draco should be even angrier than he was, but for one reason or another could not find it in himself to say another word. He sighed at his own slip of control when he saw the apologetic dual-colored eyes now watching him like a small kid who was awaiting punishment but fully accepted it because he knew he had been bad.

Saying another word would be kicking the puppy, and even Draco liked dogs. Not that his father knew that.

"Straighten you back and try again, don't _hunch_." Draco bit out, before the other could voice the apology that hung in the air. "I will to make a suitable pureblood out of you even if I have to dress you myself!"

And that was no empty threat.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

She found herself once again entering the great radiant chambers in the Bulstrodes manor. The ceiling was very special, in this room. When she had first seen it, she thought there was no ceiling at all, that it was just another one of Cyril's silly tries at illusion magic, but this one, although it did move with magic, was a good old 'trompe-l'œil', that even muggles had in their world.

Cyril thought it could perhaps stir Lucius a bit, with changing scenery playing before his eyes, like a window into another world.

The Bulstrodes had temporarily hidden him away, and in a way helped the Malfoy's saving face by not delivering him to the authorities. She was eternally grateful for that. She could bear the shame, but it could still perchance destroy what little bits of will to live left in her significant other, and that was a risk she was happy to evade.

The week had flowed by quickly for Narcissa who was yet again paying the Bulstrodes her daily visit to see her still shaken husband, in an effort to nurse him back to good health. Everyday she told the comatose Lucius – currently engaged in staring at the perspectival illusion - about her day's little oddities and occurrences, that were bound to happen with a friendly stranger in the house and an intervening and surprisingly domineering son who now spent most of his time nit-picking at the his newly found friend's conduct.

She had not seen this fervent side of her little dragon before, but the Peverell boy somehow managed to keep Draco on edge and work him up in ways she had not before seen, showing her some more colourful sides of her usually indifferent son. Draco had gained a new form of energy and renewed delight with Raziel at his side, showing that her son was finally in his right element. The first few days had started out rough though, but the other got around and had started to improve drastically on his way of carrying himself. The improvement had been sudden and she could hardly believe it was the same person that she had met in the streets of Diagon alley almost a month ago.

It made her immensely happy to see Draco so enthusiastic about something.

She owed Raziel Zuine Peverell a great debt, and it seemed like the debt would keep building, but she did not mind, she would do what she could to assist Cyril's son when the time came.

Lucius was a good father and a loving spouse; Narcissa never doubted that, she loved him equally now, even if they had not loved one another when they married, she had soon grown attached to the aloof man who in a way was very much like their son.

Too bad it would seem that he always made the wrong choices in life.

"No more, dear." She whispered into the blonde man's ear in a softly, while nuzzling his no-longer dull-looking tresses endearingly. "You did make one right choice. You opened up and let me into your life. Now. I will guide and lead you through the mist. I will make the decisions from now on, whether you like it or not, so _please_ return to us."

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

Students filtered through the packed aisle, searching for empty compartments where they could settle with their friends and housemates. A bushy-haired girl was pushed roughly against the wall in the narrow aisle as some seventh years forced their way through.

"Bastards, look where you're going! Hermione are you ok?" A bespectacled boy with messy black hair spat angrily.

"R-Harry, don't bother with them, I'm fine." Hermione corrected herself warily, looking very fatigued.

She had spent all night reading the last of this year's syllabus of books, like she always before school start. Her head was hammering and she was very stressed out these days, so much had happened over the holidays

"What happened to Ginger, Potter?" The voice of Blaise Zabini drawled a few feet away. "You look even dumber than usual, your _special training_ hasn't done a thing for you has it? Some people are just beyond help."

The Slytherin laughed and dove into the nearest compartment in time to avoid Harry Potter's puny hex, which bounced off at the glass-door and hit some first year girl who suddenly sprouted a hairy tail. Unfortunately the girl was not a cry-baby. She screamed hysterically and threw herself at her black-haired offender with a roar of madness punching him square in the face.

"Stop beating him, Mandy, it's Harry Potter." Another first year said in an effort to stop her violent friend.

"HOW DARE YOU! I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE!" Mandy raged and kept up her series of low punches aimed at the - now fallen - boy's stomach. The Daily Prophet hero groaned painfully, unable to defend himself against this female monster.

He thought he would faint until something or someone pulled the hysteric first year off of him.

"LET GO! LET ME AT HIM! DON'T INTERVENE OR I'LL PUNISH YOU TOO!" She screeched still facing her prey, but quickly clammed her mouth shut as if a spell forced her to do so.

The interceptor was a lean teen boy, with shoulder-length black hair. He had a small smile plastered on his lips as he faced the girl, with contrasting dispassionate eyes that didn't match his smile. "Please don't fight in the aisles, I'm sure this boy didn't mean to hit you with that spell. Let me remove it for you."

With a quick flick of his wand, the hairy tail vanished, and he released the gentle hold on the girl's upper arm. "There you go. Now everything is fine right?"

The girl nodded dumbfounded not sure what to say, all she did was stare wide-eyed, before letting her friends drag her away. Meanwhile the temperamental boy on the floor had gotten up with a strange look on his face. Harry Potter blushed furiously, very unlike him, as he noticed the onlookers' eyes tracing his dishevelled appearance before falling upon his rescuer.

Harry snorted at the attention the other got until Hermione's elbow stabbed him in his already sore ribs. She gave him a threatening glare and the other found the courage to thank the stranger.

"Thank.. you."

But what met him as he looked at the other made him freeze. The boy was looking straight at him, with no emotions. No joy, no anger, no annoyance, no arrogance, no nothing. Bloody hell, the guy wasn't even looking _at_ him. He was looking _through_ him or _inside_ him. Those soulless eyes stirred something in him he couldn't just put in plain words and expect them to express the sensation in its entirety.

It was magnetic. Enticing. Mystifying. Overwhelming. Overpowering.

It was _dread_.

"Raziel, Millicent and the others are waiting for us. Don't waste your time on this." The boy's friend said as he walked up next to, this Raziel person. Next to his saviour stood Draco Malfoy, with a hand on the other's shoulder.

The boy smiled serenely and nodded at Draco, but before he turned to follow his blonde friend he cast a last glance at Harry. "No problem. Take care."

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

"Draco! Raziel! You're late." Millicent greeted the boys who were both grinning as they entered the Slytherins compartment. "It's getting quite stuffy in here but there's just enough room for the two of you."

Raziel scanned the compartment and saw Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, A brown-haired girl and Millicent already sitting down, fully dressed in their Slytherin robes.

"Hey all." Draco greeted, still grinning as he sat down next to the unknown girl, who smiled and looked at his new friend tenderly, Raziel noted and took the empty seat on the other side between Blaise and Millicent.

"Raziel, this is Pansy, Blaise – Diedrich's son," Draco quickly introduced the ones that Raziel wasn't supposed to have_ met_ yet. The blonde continued on taking the brunette's hand in his "And this is Astoria Greengrass my formal fiancé. Guys this is Millicent's brother and my friend, Raziel Zuine Peverell Bulstrode."

Paying the spreading discomfort inside him no heed, he veiled his uneasiness skilfully and strangled the building curiosity within, convincing himself that Draco had just never struck him as the type who would be engaged at such a young age. Draco had not mentioned before that he was already betrothed but then again arranged marriages were a normal occurrence within the pureblood society, besides they'd only really known each other personally for a week, while these Slytherins had been a tight-knit group since year one. It was none of his business.

Millicent shot Draco a dirty glare when he introduced her brother like he knew him better than her, but quickly hid a knowing smirk when she saw the awkward look spread across her adoptive brother's striking face. She send Pansy a warning look when she stared at Raziel in fascination. Millicent didn't want to deal with her whiny friend when Harry Potter rejected her and Pansy had that bad habit of showing affection towards all the males in the Slytherin house.

Her adoptive brother knew them already of course, so it would be a bit awkward being introduced again, she thought. But it shocked her a bit, despite the passing awkwardness Raziel maintained a welcoming face as he greeted all courteously, with an expert half-smile plastered to his lips as he listened attentively to the Slytherins questions, with nothing but skill before thoughtfully answering. His act was perfect, Millicent thought sorrowfully, perhaps a bit too perfect to be natural.

It would take time, but he would soon fit in with them she assured herself as she struck up a discussion about something only Raziel would join in on. _Pureblood rituals_. And she was right Raziel was more than eager to discuss them with her, after being unable to bury himself in normal studies for over a week.

Draco and the others who didn't possess much knowledge nor cared enough about the dark rituals of their ancestors gave up following their discussion and soon entertained themselves with chitchat and the usual "And then we went to…" about their boring, carefree holiday travels. Astoria happily told them about her trip to Italy, while inching closer to her fiancé's side shyly.

"Did you remember to meditate?" Millicent asked silently Raziel, sure the others wouldn't bother to listen in while the stories went on.

"Yes of course, I still think my magic control is awful but I've meditated continuously every day, since I couldn't really use magic there and all." Raziel explained cheerfully.

"Did everything go well and you… know?" She asked with sudden seriousness.

"Yeah, he doesn't know and he's actually easy to put up with as long as you let him think he controls you." Raziel chuckled genuinely. "I did learn a thing or two from him however strange that seems. Had to walk with books on my head and everything."

Millicent laughed heartily, relieved to know that Draco hadn't been a total arse, which she could admit to first-hand that he could be.

"With people like Drake around you'll never have to worry about being noticed too much, a comfort isn't it?" Millicent commented knowingly trying to hold back a snicker. "He'd wither away and become a sour spinster should a day come when he is no longer the centre of attention, he's been like this since childhood."

"So you've been friends since you were toddlers or what?" Raziel pondered.

"Hmm, known each other yes, friends, not quite. I was a bit…mean to him when we were young. Knocked him off the broom several times, broke his toys, etcetera, and that is the whole sob story behind the stuck-up Draco who one day decided to take revenge and become good at everything he did bad." Millicent told animatedly, reliving the good old days when she was Draco's tormentor. "He isn't Slytherin seeker for nothing, he chose to be seeker because he hates losing, so bad, and I'm the whole reason he became like that, I feel so special." She said sarcastically. "We were rivals in the beginning, then when he found out I didn't care if he was suddenly better than me, the rivalry died away and we became friends."

"What are you telling him, Milly?" Draco asked with piqued interest from the other side of the compartment when he finally noticed the way the two of them had moved closer to the corner at the window, absorbed in a their own discussion.

"Told you," Millicent grinned mischievously and whispered. "Draco can't stand being ignored. He never fails to notice people who ignore him."

Raziel looked over at his new friend, smiling innocently. "We're discussing _History of Medicine_."

"Stop that. Do you want to end up in Ravenclaw? Lay off the book-talk for a bit and join us." Draco huffed childishly, making Raziel wonder if this Draco was really the same grumpy teen he'd spent a week with trying to grow used to, but it was clear to him now.

There was a _tiny _discord between them.

They were still very different, even if he was now a pureblood, and heir to a dark family, just like Draco. Or shared _some_ acquaintances. Raziel still so very much hated, scratch that, _despised_ attention and right now he felt strangely annoyed with the blonde's persistent attitude towards him. He couldn't laugh it off. Draco had called him a ticking bomb, and perhaps, he _was_.

"I'm gonna take a nap, wake me when we arrive." Raziel announced uninterested in the offer, as he switched seats with Millicent who allowed him to use her window seat so he could lean on the wall. He ignored pleads for attention, letting a surge of anger assist in cutting him free of the compelling voice.

Raziel was an introvert who preferred a few close friends, while Draco was the attention seeker – _that_ he had _always_ been - who could never be around too many people. The more admirers the more energetic he became and there was no longer any sign of the serious yet snappy instructor who had patiently guided him through basic pureblood manner and conduct in a secluded safe house. Here, pureblood manners meant nothing; they were all friends, except for Raziel who was the outsider.

Worse yet, the very crowd that gave Draco energy and turned him into a mild case of a child on a sugar high only seemed to _drain_ and _exhaust_ Raziel who now longed for some kind of isolation. Away from prying eyes. Away from the world.

This was the _real_ Draco Malfoy. Not his friend, yet. Nor enemy, he was inclined to believe they were on the same _side_ this time. Draco was but another presence in his wondrous new life, he would expect nothing more.

He wanted to give the blonde a fair chance at friendship, but he realised, Draco knew nothing about him, and he knew nothing about the other, it would take a great deal of effort. All they had shared was a short moment of understanding among billions of memories far more important. Was it really worth the effort? To create more memories? To be remembered?

Only time would show. And _he_ would show Malfoy that he couldn't be dragged around like a trophy friend among the Slytherins.

Giving a strained heave of his chest, he closed his eyes from time to time. Then he - opened - them and stared impassively out the window again. At last he _forgot_ to open them.

He was asleep.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

The title means – 'A friend is another self'

This chapter is probably a bit confusing, I was writing at night again -_-'' I'm trying not to but I end up doing it anyway, since I'm never home much during the day. To put this chapter into simple words.

**Important** - if you didn't understand this chapter well. I felt I had to explain a bit of what's going on after seeing as some might be a bit confused by it all. Thanks to Yami I added a little rant here to aid the lose ends.

1. TA aggravated Harry on purpose. Why you wonder? They were merely 'testing' Harry. A basic rule for dark purebloods is to always remain calm and collected at all times, so Harry kind of fails at that, Cyril obviously told them about him because he trusts these people a lot. Harry acts a bit hypocritical actually, but this is also meant to happen, it is my way of showing off that Harry isn't perfect, he can't just be like slam-bam and then he's a super intelligent, witty, powerful, dark wizard ;), he calls their behaviour towards him, emotional, but he also lets his own emotions run about when he gets mad - he fails because he could have stayed and handled the situation better.

Take a look at the train scene and you should notice that Harry acts very cold, or unemotional if you will, towards Ron. He is aware of who his poser is, but he can't act on it, and he doesn't really think 'ill' of Ron and Hermione, he just distances himself from everything tied to his old life, because he fears that it might drag him in again and once again make him God's sacrificial lamb. His change is just around the corner, but as I clearly put, he won't let himself be used and controlled by others anymore, and not Draco either.

2. Draco is a nasty and self-absorbed prick in my story, because that's how I've always seen him, but he should become more tolerable. He's serious when he needs to be, but among people who can stroke his ego he becomes almost - childish and manipulative. Harry is still a lion but he never wanted attention in the real books (neither does he here), he's a natural leader whom people feel an unconscious, magnetic pull towards. Unfortunately I'll have to build his confidence and he will eventually become very independant, much to Draco's distress - in a way Draco thinks of Raziel as his - you know with the whole _master_._ lord, indebted to_ - thing. It's his _excuse_ to stick around, there is no way Draco would admit to wanting Harry's/Raziel's attention.

3. Lucius isn't a vegetable, he'll be back to his slick self in no time, but Narcissa will make sure to keep him from making anymore - wrong - decisions. He'll have a bigger role later.

Please leave a review and tell me what you think - they always make my day. Special thanks to Yami- Taichi, Tiliapetiolaris and Akinyi222 for good feedback, I always love hearing what's on people's mind after reading a chapter. =)


	6. ϟ Walk in the Shadows ϟ

Full** summary:** At the night of his sixteenth birthday, Harry is granted a wish; to no longer be the Boy-who-lived, Chosen One or Harry Potter. With a wizarding world full of hypocrites and a new face, Harry decides to flee, believing that people count on chance to save them too much, it's time for them to wake up to reality and the fact that their _saviour_ might not necessarily choose to save them after all, it is time to be _Dark_. With Harry Potter gone, their world is thrown into a frenzy of panic and uproar, just the kind of distraction needed for a new unknown pureblood, Raziel, to make his appearance without bringing too much attention to himself. Slightly Dark!Harry. Eventually Powerful!Harry. HP/DM**  
Rating**: **T** for now but **M** later.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.**  
Pairing**: Both slash and Het. Main will eventually be _Draco/Harry_ but for those against slash you can consider this a Harry/no one fic, coz I'll be placing slash warnings for each chapter_._

A/N:

If you cannot review it might be because I moved around with the chapters, in that case anonymous reviews will still work. Sorry about the short chapter._  
_

**Tenebrae Aeternae****  
****Chapter Six**  
_- Shadow Walk _**-**

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-  
**

* * *

Dark

It was a very sinister darkness.

That was his first observation as he trudged through the rock-strewn path leading them from the outer gate to the inner gate, where a portcullis loomed dangerously ahead. For a split-second he had the faintest flash in his mind show him the image of the seemingly harmless portcullis dropping, ready to pierce unsuspecting people beneath it with its merciless metal teeth, effortlessly ending young lives.

The scene before him blurred he felt a rush of magic leave his body like an invisible feeler, reaching for the still dissolving hallucination of the falling portcullis and then nothing, his vision had returned.

_Déjà vu again?_

He blinked as screams cut through the steady crunching tune of gravel grating on one another, halting the stream of students. The portcullis _had_ fallen.

"What was that? It stopped midair, something stopped it!"

"Is he ok? How could the drawbridge drop like that, he could have died!"

Questions carried across the cool night air by the breeze but Raziel blocked them out, watching horrified as the third years on the ground near the gate wept from shock and relief.

"Raziel," Draco called out, catching up with him, the Greengrass girl pacing after him like there was an invisible string or bond making sure to keep the two wherever the other was. "Did you do that?"

"No." Raziel murmured serenely, adding a touch of aloofness to his dealing with the blonde, effectively putting the distance of formality between them – exactly like Draco had taught him. This seemed to make the other's brow twitch a bit, but Draco did not pursue the matter further when Astoria tugged at his sleeve, efficiently drawing his attention once again.

"Draco, can we wait for Daphne please?" She asked, worry over the unknown cause of the incident evident in her clear eyes. He nodded with a sigh and turned to where Raziel had stood just a moment ago.

"Wait on us. Don't just walk away… Raziel?" Draco looked from left to right but the Peverell heir was no longer within sight, he was gone.

"How did he do that?" Draco unconsciously asked himself out loud, slowly regretting having taught the other the soundless walk of a pureblood. But they were walking on gravel weren't they? It shouldn't work here.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

These days, he noticed several things he had not, noted in the past five years of his life. It was as if he saw everything - anew.

As he stood there, under the gate, he looked at the vertical grooves where the portcullis should have been – it was now magically removed by Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick whom had instantly dragged away the more frightened students to give them some psychological relief by retelling their impression of the incident – other students was passing by him en masse though, all eager to get inside. Raziel suddenly felt a myriad of colours exploding in his head, and he saw. For the first time, really saw, the castle he had considered his home for so long, yet never cared to really look at.

Had the trees surrounding the inner garden of Hogwarts always been festooned with coloured lanterns like today? Had there ever been so many torches to light up the old castle like there was now, and what were these layers of magic looking like white veils surrounding the whole castle and inner garden.

This must have been part of his truth sight as well, because no one else seemed to notice the touch of Dumbledore's magic in the network of force fields.

"Hurry up." An insisting female voice said. On his right Hermione trudged by, looking angry as she pulled Ron-in-the-shape-of-Harry along like they were the only ones on the road. "Dumbledore said we had to make the switch fast."

Had they not seen him? Or was Hermione getting careless talking so openly?

Tentatively, he focused on the fluttering veil of white that was the force field and raised his hand to gently taste Dumbledore's magic out of curiosity.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-  
**

* * *

Daphne Greengrass sighed in vexation as she saw her sister waving a hand to greet her; a big idiotic smile plastered on her face and the cause of it entwined edgily with her other arm. Draco Malfoy who usually played the perfect role of the attentive fiancé was now looking slightly troubled by something that did not concern her precious sister, Astoria. How unusual, Daphne thought.

"Daphne! Where were you? You were supposed to share a carriage with us but you never came to our compartment!" Astoria said in her reprimanding sister voice that did not seem to match with her apparent glee at being alone with _him_.

Her younger sister had despite the recent gossip about the Malfoy family's connection with the dark lord still upheld the engagement. Not that Daphne could blame her, many would stay engaged simply because it was _Draco_, definitely not because he was a Malfoy. But her sister was stupid to let herself be used no matter how desirable her future bridegroom was, he would not bring their family honour with his tainted name.

"Why? I didn't promise anything." She said grimly; staring hard at her sister who gaped liked a goldfish. "I was with Pavarti and Padma."

Draco's eyes shot up to look at her from his spot next to Astoria who looked angry, her lips pursed, as her normally charming face had wrenched into somehow less pleasing to look at.

"They are Gryffindors!" Astoria yelled disbelievingly, angry that her sister had ditched her for such improper friends.

"Padma is a Ravenclaw." Daphne corrected her.

"That doesn't make it better."

_Stop looking at me like you actually meant to wait for me, spoiled child. Even I know you only wanted an excuse to stay alone with the Malfoy_. Daphne thought darkly. She would never understand what so many people saw in this boy.

"Whatever."

"Let's get going, I'm getting hungry." Draco broke in successfully breaking up the building tension between the sisters. Daphne sighed and walked with them to the castle. Grudgingly bearing witness to Astoria's manipulative manner of dragging - whoever held her interest - around like some kind of prize, made her feel sorry for the Malfoy actually.

"Daphne is it true that you accepted that Hufflepuff boy's courting? Pansy said you have been exchanging letters over the summer." Astoria asked as they neared the final gate.

"Pansy gossips too much, I would do no such thing." Daphne growled at the misunderstanding. It was true though that last year a Hufflepuff boy had asked her out but she had instantly rejected him because he was a half-blood and that was the end of that. Not that she had anything against half-bloods in general, she had some friends who were like that. But she still stuck with the family tradition of keeping pure. And friends was one thing, who she would date or in the end marry was another.

A pulse of magic surged through the air making Astoria squeak from surprise and Draco yell someone's name.

Daphne looked in front of them to see a silhouette of a boy standing with his back to them, just next to the final gate. His hand was raised and gripping at air as if trying to touch something invisible.

"Raziel!" Draco called again and this time she heard the name. The name instantly rang a bell, when she remembered how distressed Astoria had been when Draco had been busy the last week of the summer where they were supposed to have met up. Draco had been busy with this Raziel person, that much she understood from watching Astoria secretly cursing the boy she had never even seen for taking away her precious time with the Malfoy heir. This in Daphne's book made this Raziel person someone she wanted to shake hands with and let inside her home, if for nothing else, he could annoy her sister.

The boy froze and let his hand drop to his side while slowly turning to look at her to-be-brother-in-law.

She felt like she was frozen solid in place as the stranger's - Raziel's - piercing eyes quickly traced over her much-too-fast before focusing on the now suddenly bossy blonde.

"What's the matter, Draco?" Raziel enquired suavely yet so very passively that it broke Daphne from her stupor to take in the other's appearance, and reluctantly admired the lean frame in front of her. The guy was a good height and the agreeable face surrounded by midnight black hair didn't put her off either. The boy was actually quite pretty, if she could call a guy pretty. Not prettier than her of course. She hadn't met many boys she could earnestly call beautiful, but he was the exception. She began to count the good points and the bad points like she always did when she saw someone unique.

He annoyed her sister, that was a definite plus, but unfortunately he also looked too detached and dreamy to have a decent conversation with. Minus. Probably a pureblood, plus. Almost as tall as Draco but without the same air of overconfidence about him, plus, plus. Magical capabilities? Unknown but from the gist of it, not very powerful. Minus.

"You-" Malfoy began.

"Mr. Peverell." Minerva McGonagall called standing in the entrance, face as stern as everyone remembered it. "The headmaster wants to see you now."

"Alright," The boy said sheepishly, before looking at a anxious Malfoy. "We'll talk later."

He made Malfoy anvious? Plus, plus, plus, plus, plus!

Daphne hid her smile as she stared at the retreating form of the dark-haired young man.

McGonagall turned to the rest eyes narrowed. "You three, better get to the great hall now. A storm is brewing as we speak."

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

Bloody. Bloody. Bloody. Hell. Hell. Hell. He chanted over and over.

Seeing Dumbledore so soon was not the plan.

"You must be Minerva McGonagall right?" Raziel asked attempting a mix of innocent curiosity and awe.

The stern-looking McGonagall kept walking. "Correct, but I will be _Professor_ McGonagall to you." She suddenly said almost half a minute later.

Raziel relaxed a bit, she couldn't possibly know anything about him, but still even if it was to be expected, he was a bit unnerved by being called to the same office, where he had only a few months ago screamed at Dumbledore, but now was different, he was not supposed to know Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was not supposed to know Raziel, this was his chance to become ordinary, only problem was he didn't know how an ordinary student would handle this meeting? Would they be excited that the leader of Light was meeting them personally? Quiet and collected, or simply nervous wreck, like he genuinely was? Being here in the castle, as someone else, other than Harry Potter was so, surreal. But for appearances sake he had to pretend to not know anyone, in a way that was deceiving or lying to people, something he had never been good at, he had to get used to lying sooner or later so he might as well aim to become a smooth liar.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Professor. I just read so much about the McGonagalls in '_Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century'_ and '_Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy'_, I was surprised that your family could be traced all the way back to the dark ages there are so few old families left. Some books even mentions the McGonagalls connection to Syn the seer," He paused seeing the old woman's eyes narrow at the mention of Seers, and he remembered a bit too late that McGonagall did not believe in those. "Not that I personally believe in prophecies and such, but the stories about her are classics."

McGonagall picked up her pace, as if she couldn't wait to get rid of him but answered nonetheless. "Knowledge through books isn't all, Mr. Peverell and I don't take kindly to people digging up information about my family, I hope you know that whatever you have read in those books is far from the truth."

"Well I've been stuck with muggles all my life. Reading was the only way for me to get knowledge about this world, even if I couldn't perform magic I still wanted to know where my family came from. As you've probably heard. I was believed to be a squib until recently." Raziel explained looking purposely downcast to pull the pity card on his old house head, speaking to her compassionate nature. He felt bad, truly he did, mainly because he remembered that sucking up to people was Malfoy's –Draco's forte, not his, and now here he was doing the same despicable thing. He looked over at McGonagall who walking next to him now, no longer as fast and determined as she had seemed before, she was watching him with perched lips still, but her face had softened and even if she did not respond, he could see she was regretting her harsh behaviour a bit. If he had looked sad before then it would only serve to heighten the effect. And it was enough for now.

They stopped in front of the golden statue to Dumbledore's office.

"The headmaster is waiting." She gestured at the newly sprouted staircase. "In the wizarding world we always greet our headmaster with a bow. Do not speak to him unless spoken to first."

Resisting the urge to raise a brow he started climbing the stairs, biting back his surprise. Instead of saying the password out loud as she and Dumbledore always had when he was Harry, she had whispered it making sure he wouldn't hear. Was this the _normal_ way they did things when it came to ordinary students? And the '_don't speak unless spoken to_' was this some sort of hearing, or had he just grown too used to the special treatment and been blind to this obvious favouritism that _Harry Potter_ had been basking in all along.

"Come in." Raziel shivered involuntarily, feeling his heartbeat pick up and skin crawling at the sound of the voice usually gentle humming voice now tired and humourless. The floor shone in its newly polished state, only vaguely reflecting the light from the floating lights around the Headmaster's desk still filled with unidentifiable golden instruments. These instruments flickered with magic of various colours but none of them as orange as the Bulstrode Family's book.

His adoptive father had hinted at the meaning of the different shades of magic, but admitted it wasn't reliable because only people with the sight could see these auras, and that he had not read a lot about it, out of lack of interest. The items that caught his interest was a tawny spyglass and a needle-like object, one possessed a burgundy aura while the other shone bright green, like the shade of new leafs in spring, also the colour of the most lethal poisons, if that needle was to ever as much as prickle someone's skin they would be mortally wounded for sure, who could have known that Dumbledore of all people hid such merciless weapons in his office, and why was it out on the table for all to see if it truly was as fatal the aura suggested. The burgundy aura around the spyglass however was not the sign of anything deadly, it told him it was a….

"I see my Omniscient Spyglass has caught your attention, Mr. Peverell." Dumbledore suddenly spoke with a nostalgic tint to his tone. "There are so few of them in our world now, but in the past they were weapons of war commonly used to detect hidden traps and field magic unseen by the human eye. Florence Eveens invented them during the Goblin wars, 432 years ago and without them our loss would have been much greater than they were."

Raziel fought back the urge to inform Dumbledore that it was the wizards who had started the trouble, with their lack of respect when invading Goblin territory to catch a persecuted Goblin who had if sources held truth – unlikely as it was - caused some trouble. Goblins were intellectual beings and followed laws of their own, one of which clearly stated that they would punish their own criminals and that only Goblins should decide the fate of a fellow Goblin. Wizards had nothing to do in the Goblin's tunnels, but Dumbledore probably knew that. Swallowing tensely he bent his back, in a deep bow, causing locks of still unfamiliar hair to tickle his cheeks. Part of him felt stung at having to do this, to the same man who had indirectly planned his whole life without his permission. "Headmaster." He spoke softly forcing himself to sound respectful, before straightening his back returning to his upright position, sternly keeping his eyes on near the old man's shoulders.

The headmaster stood and walked over to a golden cabinet, reaching up to take down the old dusty sorting hat. Raziel blinked when he saw the silvery light around the hat, not white but not dark either. "Normally we don't take students in who develop magic so late in life but your father insisted and told me you were far more knowledgeable than a normal sixth year student. The unfortunate incident with the Death Eaters has led to this exception; we cannot have a powerful wizard such as you uneducated in our ways."

"I am not powerful, sir. Even a dog will bite back if you corner it. I was cornered." Raziel said.

"So it would seem, my boy. No one blames you for defending yourself, but people still fear the fact that one young such as you has the knowledge of dark magic." Dumbledore stood still next to him, with the glowing hat in one hand while gesturing to the guest chair with the other. "If you will, we can begin."

"Dark magic perhaps but the killing curse isn't hard to come by, everyone knows it so it could hardly be considered 'Dark knowledge'." He said, whilst he knew he had talked too much, but he still couldn't control his anger towards Dumbledore, every fibre in him fought to not convey its dislike. He mentally slapped himself for debating such a taboo subject as dark magic was with a light wizard, he was revealing himself. Dumbledore watched him for a moment with a calculating gaze that made him shiver.

He promptly sat down after looking the wooden chair over for any signs of magic, but found none. Was he a bit too guarded?

Dumbledore placed the hat and quickly withdrew his hand as the hat came to live and started moving.

"_You again? You've come to be sorted again I see, was the life of a lion not what you begged me for all those years ago?_" The hat laughed inside his head, easily rummaging through his mind like there were no occlumency shields.

"_I want you to look again and tell where I belong the most_."

"_Riiight… let's see. Somewhat ambitious, studious - such unquenchable thirst for knowledge, that is new, I sense great potential, and hidden power from you but also a bit of cowardice, oh my, how could I have put you in Gryffindor, you're just running away, are you not? I must say you are not bad at deceiving everyone if Dumbledore knew…"_

"_But he doesn't and you won't be telling him either. You can't without my permission, and that you do not have. I'm tired of being used, I am not running away, the life of Harry Potter isn't mine any longer so what does bravery offer me?_"

"It _seems like it is settled if you do not regret then, but you still sway towards two houses, the life of a Ravenclaw would suit you great with that desire for knowledge you possess, although Slytherin has you in heavy chains, ambitious, cunning, deceitful and so very prideful_."

"_Seems like you've made your choice_."

"_So let it be, boy_" The hat said and retracted from his mind to yell. "SLYTHERIN!"

He dared himself to look up quickly but looked away immediately when noticing the hardened stare from the headmaster. The old man stood still, observing with steely eyes, not much different than a statuette, Raziel thought. After what seemed like eons, Dumbledore broke the stare, sighing and the Harry inside him knew that Dumbledore was currently pondering if he was facing the next dark wizard, in line to take over after Voldemort. And in that moment, he felt a bit regretful, like Harry should be ashamed of his decision, he had never had any life goals to become a dark wizard, he had wanted to be light, he had wanted to side by side with Dumbledore. Dumbledore wasn't exactly evil, part of him knew, but he had different ways of doing things, and the old man scared him, in his new form. He had never felt fear with Dumbledore when he was Harry, but right now he felt like he was choking, in light magic.

"Mr. Peverell. The head of your house is Severus Snape. You will find his office on the third floor, should you ever need his guidance." The headmaster started, his eyes sparkled dangerously and a smile spread on his lips, making him cringe. "I shall escort you to the Great hall now, for dinner."

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-_Tenebrae Aeternae_-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

That night when he had arrived in the Great Hall, the feast had long since begun and the Gryffindor table especially, showed the rest of the houses a true sport of eating – consuming -, most of all. Draco, had after a meal and a glass of wine, been over the top with positivity, and long forgotten was the fact that Raziel had left him, something oddly unfitting for his old rival, who always had seemed to be in a bad mood, whenever Harry had been around him and Raziel could only think that the blonde bore a grudge against his other self. He suddenly thought of the stuck up brat Draco had been when he introduced himself to Harry Potter whilst also dissing Ron's family and Hermione's muggle parents, and felt his lips pull into a smile. Draco was such a bitch, he agreed, but he wasn't so bad hanging out with otherwise. As long as he was in Draco's graces, he wouldn't have to worry about being trashtalked.

"Look at Harry, I think his special training has made him look dumber." Blaise exclaimed with a smirk. Of course they also noticed that someone was missing..

"Where is that bloodtraitor? The ginger kid, Ron." A girl who sat next to Astoria Greengrass asked, from a bit further down the table.

"Ah yes, that mudblood lover got himself hexed on the train and had to go to the hospital wing with a pig's snout!" Astoria joined in. "I heard it from the other girls." Figures. Someone had to spread a rumour to cover up for the switch.

They all broke into laughter at that, and some, namely Draco, Blaise and the goons Goyle and Crabbe, turned in their seats to send silly faces at the Gryffindors who had heard and turned around to glare. Raziel looked away, feeling embarrassed. He had almost forgotten what childish things Draco did. And as Harry he had been embarrassed over Ron's lack of self-control in ignoring this childish behaviour. Harry Potter from the Gryffindor table sent them all a death glare and seemed to turn slightly red, but just slightly. Polyjuice doesn't cover everything, it seems.

"So Raziel, what happened in Dumbledore's office?" Draco inquired, bursting his bubble of comfort at not being the topic of discussion anymore. Damn.

"Nothing much, I got sorted." And that was all they needed to know.

"He didn't do anything weird to you did he?" Millicent asked, eyes looking so stern that they could almost equal McGonagall's.

"Weird? What should he have done? Manipulated me?" Raziel chuckled a bit, trying to shake off their guard, but from the looks of it he had made it worse.

"Actually, yes. He has done it to all of us. Probed us I mean." Draco almost whispered, and the fellow Slytherins all nodded solemnly. "It is fairly common, everyone knows that Dumbledore is growing more paranoid, it isn't for no reason that people call him senile. It is unfair though, he does it to every Slytherin, but never to the other houses."

"Yeah, that is how he can tell if we're in allegiance to the Dark." The girl from before added.

Raziel remembered the thick blanket of light-natured magic he had felt earlier and just disregarded as Dumbledore's own aura, which had almost choked him in the office and wondered if that was what his new housemates were referring to. If that was the case and Dumbledore did this to every possible dark wizard he could come across it was no wonder that the Slytherins despised him so. Nevertheless it was but another source of evidence that he had made the right choice. He didn't wish any harm on Dumbledore obviously, but his kind headmaster wasn't exactly what he had imagined he was for years.

Raziel must have appeared apprehensive to the others' eyes. "Don't worry mate, he probably didn't see anything. It is scary though, the thought of your mind being invaded." An older Slytherin, he'd been introduced to as Jayce Tsuchiya said comfortingly. Jayce's family was of one of the few dark family's from the east that attended a school far away. His father being a wizard of Japanese origin had married an Irish pureblooded witch and moved to Europe. Jayce had started on Hogwarts last year after finding the life of Durmstrang not to his liking. The boy had clear green eyes, a well shaped pointed face and a thick straight hair black as coal that many would envy.

Raziel didn't say much and quickly looked away from the other boy when he felt a pair of icy blue eyes resting on him.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

In the Slytherins common room, the house elves had outdone themselves, preparing a snack table – much to Crabbe and Goyle delight – with fresh fruit, cupcakes, cookies and butterbeers. All setting a nice mood for a small welcome party, for the new first years, who really weren't supposed to drink, but it happened anyway.

"Raziel!" Blaise called from the stairs and waved him over as soon as they made eye contact. Some of the more wise first years had skipped out on drinking and had settled in their rooms, unlike Raziel who still had no clue where he was going to sleep. Not that he cared much, but he would prefer not to share a room, with Crabbe and Goyle for example. Blaise seemed all right though. "You luggage is in our room. It seems you will be staying with Ian Vaisey, Jayce Tsuchiya, myself and Theodore Nott. We're all nice guys so you'll be most welcome and um… Mind that you don't uh, make any noise, some of the boys are a bit touchy, when it comes to, yeah you know."

Raziel cracked a brow, not quite following what Blaise was talking about. "No I don't know."

Blaise looked a bit uncomfortable, but leaned in and whispered. "You know… masturbation."

"Oh.." Raziel muttered, not sure what to think of the blunt explanation. He vaguely remembered his old friend Ron having a phase of constant masturbation and he hadn't been able to sleep contentedly for weeks. In the end it had been Neville who although awkward about the whole situation had asked Ron to do it while no one was there and not at nighttimes. Ron had afterwards ignored Neville for a good month or so. "No worries there."

Blaise looked quizzical and Raziel didn't want to know how his new friend had interpreted his instant rejection of ever doing what most healthy teenage boys did. He wasn't abnormal, he was just more private about this sort of stuff, and doing it in your bedroom with three other boys wasn't an option.

"Don't ask." He finally said, as Blaise was about to make a funny remark. The other boy laughed and nodded, slightly drunk too and with a shortened attention span that made this conversation meaningless, as it would – most likely – be forgotten tomorrow morning.

"Sorry mate, it is just, you are quite the looker, don't take it the wrong way, but soon you might be, more active in that department. When you get a girlfriend. And we all understand." Blaise grinned. "I heard the girls talk, you know. You're the new hottest thing since Draco turned boring."

Suddenly painfully aware of numerous pairs of eyes watching him from several locations around the room, turned away. Raziel had brushed off their staring as general interest and curiosity, because of what the tabloids had said about him, not _that_sort of interest. And perhaps Zabini just read too much into it. That had to be it.

"What about you, don't you have a girlfriend?" Raziel hid his sigh and decided to turn the conversation in his favour, meaning, away from himself.

"Me? Gods no, what do you take me for? Way too much effort, after the first date, girls start to want more, and you will eventually be sucked dry, by their constant mood swings, need for attention and….no. Just so." Blaise ranted, then halted and searched the crowd around the couches, looking for someone. "There. You see Draco? He has been with that Astoria girl for ages now. Draco can do it, and I have no clue how he does it, but he must have been very patient to put up with the shit and drama she has caused for so many years. It's almost sad man. Two years! Two! Ever since that girl started clinging to Draco he's changed. Ok enough of that, want another butterbeer? I see you haven't had enough, you aren't fooling no one, come let us go sit with them."

"Nah, I prefer standing here to be fair. I am feeling kind of bummed tonight, first day and everything, so I think I will just cool a bit here."

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

Draco didn't feel so well. Astoria just smiled sweetly and chatted on, holding firmly onto his arm. His stomach was acting weird and stuffy. It could be that he had too much Shepherds pie, or perhaps it was the amount of people in the room that seemed to make his eyes blur as he searched for his new friend, amongst the flock of Slytherins. He emptied the butterbeer in his left hand and placed the flask on the table. Astoria gave his arm a squeeze and asked if he was all right, to which he nodded wearily, not able to put up with the fuss right now.

It soon became clear to him that he missed the silence of the safe house. Just being able to grab a book, and sit in the library with Raziel going over something as tedious as old customs, which had never really interested him, but the enthusiasm Raziel showed had rubbed off on Draco. Him and Raziel might perhaps have more things in common that Draco had realized and the other male's presence had been strangely soothing, his father had warned him about people with great magic, and it was clear to Draco that his father was talking from experience with all those years of service to the dark lord. A lord's magic could have an almost drowsing, or in some cases infatuating effect like an aphrodisiac on normal wizards and witches that didn't take heed.

"Draco?"

He looked up from a spot on the black stone table he had been watching for the last five minutes, and noticed the softness of his fiancé's breast pressing against his arm. She looked at him with bedroom eyes. It was almost too much to bear, he wasn't in the mood, and he just wished she had known him well enough to see that he needed space. Resisting the urge to snap, possibly due to the butterbeer in the system, he wrenched his arm free and excused himself. It could be the beer, or just this whole discomfort that put him on edge but he was starting to feel very annoyed with everything. Ignoring the surprised look of his closest, he sauntered across the room to a less crowded spot near the stair leading down to the boys' dormitory. There he leaned on the cold stonewall and saw Raziel talk animatedly with his former best friend Blaise Zabini.

It hurt.

His head was pounding, and even the cold stone against his back didn't bring him much comfort. Nor did the fact that girls were paying a bit too much attention to his new friend help. Draco knew, Raziel would be popular here, it went without saying, and people would try to get close to him with motives. He was just worried that Raziel would be gobbled up because he was too naïve to see these people for what they were. Except for Millicent, only Draco knew what background Raziel came from. These people knew nothing; to them he was just the new hot thing. Then once the hype was over they would dump him. Draco couldn't let Raziel get hurt like that. But Blaise was nice, so why did he have to worry?

Blaise put his arm around Raziel's shoulders and pointed at Daphne Greengrass, but Draco didn't see.

He had closed his eyes, unable to keep himself up any longer, he glided to the floor, in pain more than one place, this time he felt it clearly, the second stab of pain, it was his chest, it hurt as well.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

Ice blue eyes narrowed on the small child sitting in the chair, unmoving. The child - no older than seven - was staring into the wall, hands falling limply at his sides, shaking like a little animal cornered by its predator, unable to escape and waiting for the hammer to fall.

The older man strode behind his chair and leaned down near the nape of the fearful child.

"Draco." The breath caressed his sensitive skin.

"No."

"No what?"

"I d-didn't…"

"Didn't what, my boy?"

"I didn't mean to look at that girl!"

"Now, now, Draco there is no shame in looking at something _beautiful_ but amongst the beautiful are also those with nothing but _outer beauty,_ make no mistake, because inside they are foul and deceitful." The beautiful man said melodiously, creating a fake sense of leniency. "But what happens when you as much as glance at those?"

"I-"

"Answer me."

"They might think that I like them."

"And then what danger does that bring you?"

"They might approach me…"

"What happens if they approach you, son?" The man pushed.

"T-they might…" the child began with a whimper, trying not to cry. "They might t-touch me..."

"Exactly. And you know what _physical contact_, with such foul beings means to us don't you?" His father spoke serenely, while patting his shoulder.

"Physical contact creates unnecessary emotions." Tears prickled forth and young Draco stared at the ground ashamed and deeply appalled by his own actions.

"What do they do to you? And what emotions must at all costs be avoided?"

"They blind my j-judgement and show me a distorted reality. Lust and l-love are the worst." Little Draco stammered letting the words he'd been hearing all his life sink in so that he would never forget.

"_Lust_, Draco. There is no love. There is just attraction. It will create short-lived illusions of _bliss_. We are most vulnerable when we are buried in this malicious feeling of endless ecstasy."

"But father..." Little Draco tried to dry his cheeks with the sleeve of his silk shirt, earning him an angry look from his father, which quickly made him stop. "You and mother touch…"

"Your mother is special. We did not marry because of _lust_ or any of those illusory feelings. We married because we were _right_ for each other, we are both of pure and noble blood, unlike that Rebecca Williams you so carelessly gawked at earlier, a _mudblood,_ she does not deserve to be looked upon, she is of foul blood and could nullify your pureblood status and make you foul and dirty like them! Do you understand, my precious Dragon?" The longhaired blonde now sneered, no longer troubling himself to sugar-coat his poorly hidden revulsion." Don't even bother to look at those foul creatures! You may only look at our own kind. The pure and strong. And you best remember that!"

Little Draco didn't know what happened then, the next moment he was on the ground in pain from the harsh landing. But at least his face, currently adorned with an expression of shock and stilled tears, had gone numb from the sudden blow, and he did not take notice of the warm liquid running from his broken nose.

* * *

**-****_ϟ_****-**_**Tenebrae Aeternae**_**-****_ϟ_****-**

* * *

Draco was laying on one of the hospital wing's beds, with his head buried in his pillow. His entire form trembled from the aftermath of his dream. Pansy Parkinson watched him worriedly from the door opening, relieved that no one else was here to see the Slytherin's ice prince in tatters. Draco had been in this position ever since he'd woken up after the_ welcome party_. Professor Snape had hushed up his blackout.

"Did I faint?" He asked, wondering where Raziel was, had the other boy visited him?

"Yep! Everyone was worried, but it seems like you had a bit too much to drink, that combined with your fever did it I think." Pansy smiled.

He then turned to look at Pansy. "Where is Raziel?"

"Raziel is in Potions class. He carried you here last night you know."

Draco nodded feeling a bit better than before.

* * *

Please review and share your thoughts :3


End file.
